The Stag and the Dragon
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: Crossover and OoTP AU. It's Harry's fifth year, and a desperate Dumbledore hires a new Dark Arts teacher who might prove to wreak more havoc than Umbridge ever could... Darth Vader.
1. A Second Dark Lord

**The Stag and the Dragon**

**Kenya Starflight**

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Most of my fics are either one-shots, like "Reminiscence" and "The Artist" (okay, it's a two-shot, but the bunny wouldn't leave me alone on that one), or novella-length stories that I eventually complete, like "Eye of the Storm" and the "Reborn" trilogy. This one's going to be a bit different – the plot bunny has only seen fit to produce a few chapters in what should rightly be a much longer narrative. I will add more as inspiration strikes me, so I implore you to be patient._

_Also, I've never been good at writing parody fics, so while the basic idea seems to be a parody, the story won't be. Live with it._

Prologue – A Second Dark Lord 

It was a rainy August day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The sky was a marbled slab of ivory and silver, and light rain misted the grounds. The grass sparkled like an expanse of emeralds with the moisture. Hogwarts itself towered over the countryside, looking cold and foreboding to the unpracticed eye.

Inside Dumbledore's office, though, it was cozy and warm, with a blazing fire going in the fireplace and mugs of mulled cider ready and waiting on his desk. Former Headmasters and Headmistresses dozed in their paintings, silver instruments puffed and spun lazily, and Fawkes, the brilliantly colored phoenix, slumbered quietly on his perch, head tucked under one magnificent wing.

But the silence between the Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor McGonagall was anything but warm and comfortable.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, still holding the application for employment in his fingers. Not a scroll of parchment like most, but a Muggle sheet of paper, with crisp laser-printed lettering and a peculiar-looking seal or insignia serving as a watermark. The document itself was unremarkable – aside from the fact that it was a Muggle artifact, of course – but it was what it contained that had so stunned himself and McGonagall.

The applicant was requesting the vacant post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"Is this right?" McGonagall said at last. "Should we really trust this... man?"

"He is certainly qualified, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, opening his eyes to skim the letter again. "He has extensive experience with the Dark Arts. And above all, he is willing."

"Does he know that no teacher in the past four years has lasted an entire term?" she demanded.

She referred to the supposed curse that seemed to rest on the post of Dark Arts Professor. Professor Quirrel had been a host for Lord Voldemort's soul and been killed in his confrontation with Harry Potter, Lockhart had been a conceited braggart who'd had his memory destroyed when his attempted Memory Charm on two students backfired, Lupin had to be dismissed after the jealous Snape leaked his identity as a werewolf to the press, and Moody had been kidnapped and held prisoner by an insane imposter set on resurrecting the Dark Lord and killing Harry. With such a record, it was small wonder that no one had applied for the post this year.

"I have informed him of the risk – and he is willing to take it."

"But have you SEEN this man?" she went on as if determined to find fault with the applicant. "If he's not a dark wizard, he certainly looks the part. Should we trust him? And will the students trust a teacher who..."

"Wardrobe choices notwithstanding, Minerva, we have no choice," Dumbledore told her kindly but with a quiet firmness. "As I said, he is willing to take the job. No other qualified person has stepped forward. Moody refuses to return after that fiasco last year. Lupin would be an excellent choice, but the parents won't have a werewolf instructing their children. This applicant is willing, able, and ready. It is either take him... or settle with the Ministry of Magic's appointed teacher. And after meeting Madam Umbridge at Harry's hearing two days ago, I can assure you that the second choice will be disastrous."

She sighed in defeat. "Very well, Professor. He is waiting outside. Shall I send him in?"

"By all means," Dumbledore replied. "I've wanted to meet our applicant in person ever since I found out his identity."

McGonagall stood and strode out of the office.

Dumbledore folded the document and slid it into a stack of parchments. Minerva did have a point. From all accounts, this man could be dangerous. He certainly had a reputation all his own among his people. But if it meant keeping the Ministry's prying eyes out of Hogwarts a little longer, it would be worth taking him on. The safety of the Order of the Phoenix – and Harry Potter – was at stake.

The door swung open, and the applicant entered, jet-black robes trailing after him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Vader," Dumbledore greeted.

Darth Vader seated himself in the chair McGonagall had vacated as if it were a throne, fixing the Headmaster with a solemn gaze. Firelight gleamed in amber curves and angles across his armor, highlighting the details of the scowling metal mask he constantly wore. The rhythmic hiss of his breath filled the office and dulled every other sound. A sable cloak lent him a regal air, while his heavy gauntlets and armored boots suggested a military man. Muggle-style controls and buttons on a heavy chest panel betrayed the fact that he was half-machine, a fact that might have repulsed another wizard but only intrigued Dumbledore.

His black-shrouded gaze met Dumbledore's eyes, and for an intense moment there was a silent battle of wills, a measuring of talent and intentions.

Then Vader nodded once, as if acknowledging Dumbledore's strength. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," he replied in a resonant, metallic voice, addressing the wizard as an equal.

"I understand you wish to work as a professor in our school," Dumbledore went on.

"Correct," Vader intoned.

"Your resume has proven quite extensive." He withdrew the application again. "Twenty years experience in dealing with the dark arts is quite a history."

No answer except the constant pulse of his breathing.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me a little about yourself," he pressed, hoping to establish a connection with this man.

A pensive silence. "What do you wish to know?"

"To begin with, what led you to contact Hogwarts for employment?" He gave a swish of his wand, and one of the mugs of cider floated toward him. Vader raised a hand in a negative gesture, and the mug returned to the desk.

"My... former employer's wish," Vader replied. "He informed me that I was to take a year off from my regular duties. I'm not a man to sit around idly, so I sought a less strenuous career to occupy my leave time. And when I learned of the opening here, I decided to apply."

"I see. And what exactly was the nature of your former employment, might I ask?"

His visored head cocked as he considered the question. "I was the Commander of the Imperial Starfleet and the second-in-command of the Galactic Empire."

"Impressive," Dumbledore noted, a definite understatement. He began to wonder if hiring Vader would be a good idea after all. Did the Galactic Empire want to keep tabs on the school as much as the Ministry of Magic did?

"And what of your magic qualifications?" he asked.

"I am a Force-user," Vader replied. "I studied as a Jedi Knight from the age of nine until I was twenty-one. From that point forward I trained as a Dark Lord of the Sith. I am adept in all the arts of the Force and am qualified to train others in such arts."

Dumbledore remained silent. He knew all this, of course. Many Muggles but few wizards on this world did. But as far as he knew, the Galactic Empire was just as ignorant of this fact as the wizarding world was. The Empire was, in a way, just as bad as wizard-kind, not wanting any contact whatsoever with the Muggle world.

The Ministry of Magic and the Galactic Empire, for the most part, acknowledged each other's existences (and each naturally considered the other inferior), but otherwise they kept to themselves. By mutual consent they tended to their own affairs and kept themselves apart from Muggle-kind. But thanks to a wizard and Seer descendent named Lucas who'd fled to the United States and disguised himself as a Muggle to escape a sentence in Azkaban for some minor crime or other, the Empire had a distinct disadvantage compared to the wizard world – they were common knowledge and something of a joke to Muggles.

Dumbledore wondered how Vader would react if the Muggle-born students recognized him and started tongues wagging. He wouldn't be pleased to know that the sordid details of his past had been leaked by a Seer-turned-filmmaking-mogul. He wondered if he should warn Vader of this to prevent a messy situation down the road.

"Very good," was all he said to the applicant. "But you must understand that the class you will be teaching is primarily defensive in nature. We wish to teach our students how to protect themselves from the Dark Arts, not use them."

"I understand, Headmaster," he replied, nodding.

"We do have curriculum guidelines that you are free to look over and use to your discretion," he went on, raising his wand again. "_Accio Parchment._"

A heavy scroll shot across the room, missing the top of Vader's helmet by about half a foot before landing with a puff of dust on Dumbledore's desk. Vader gave him a look that, even through a layer of steel, plainly said, "I'm not impressed."

"Understand that these are only guidelines," he went on, handing the parchment to Vader. "You are free to build your own curriculum as you see fit, but keep in mind what I've said before – no Dark Arts instruction."

"You were abundantly clear on that point," he replied, unrolling the first foot or so of the scroll and glancing over it briefly before tucking it under his arm. "I will prepare an overview and allow you to inspect it before the term begins."

"That would be most appreciated." He paused to take a sip out of his mug. "A final warning, Professor Vader – I assume you know of the man known as Lord Voldemort?"

Vader drew himself up straight, obviously surprised. "I was informed that no wizard spoke his name."

"A ridiculous superstition," Dumbledore dismissed. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the name's bearer. And frankly, it's quite absurd for any adult wizard to refer to anyone as 'You-Know-Who.'"

There was a distorted electronic snort, as if Vader had begun to laugh but thought better of it. "The Ministry informed us of this so-called Dark Lord when he rose to power. They warned us that he might attempt to extend his reach toward taking over the Empire." He made a sound of disdain. "And we were told he had been killed in a freak accident."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Then I regret to inform you that Voldemort is alive and active, and he seeks to destroy those who opposed him before and retake his power. The Ministry, however, maintains that he is dead and insists that anyone who claims otherwise is delusional and dangerous." He leaned forward and spoke in a tone of warning. "We at Hogwarts are doing all we can to protect our students and keep the Ministry from establishing a foothold here, but I fear for the wizarding world at large, for the more the government denies his existence and covers up signs of his return, the easier it is for Voldemort to rebuild his dynasty of terror."

Vader was silent, brooding over this information. "And you would have me join your cause?"

"I had hoped..." Dumbledore began, then fell silent.

"I am loyal only to the Emperor," he informed the Headmaster. "Unless this self-styled Dark Lord proves to be a threat to the Empire, there is nothing I can do. However, rest assured that, while I cannot directly join you, neither will I aid the Ministry of Magic in maintaining their pointless conspiracy."

He was disappointed at the Sith's answer, of course, but he counted himself lucky that at least Vader would keep the meddling Ministry out of Hogwarts for the time being.

"Very well," he replied, pulling his watch from a pocket in his robes. "I would enjoy chatting with you some more, but I have an appointment in London in half an hour that I cannot afford to miss. Do you need help moving into your new quarters?"

"My men will handle it," Vader replied.

"Then may I welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and we are eager to see what you have to teach our students, Professor Vader."

"Thank you, Headmaster." He stood, his jet-black form towering over Dumbledore, and with a respectful bow he swept out.

Dumbledore sighed. "I only hope I made the right decision, hiring a second Dark Lord to defend the Order of the Phoenix from the first Dark Lord."

"Quite a frightening fellow you have there, sir," droned the sleepy voice of Dilys Derwent from one of the portraits. "Hope he doesn't scare the wits out of your first years..."


	2. The Force of Magic

**Chapter 1 – The Force of Magic**

Another year at Hogwarts, another start-of-term feast. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the starless black sky outside, and the four long House tables buzzed with activity as students became reacquainted with their friends after the summer holidays. The hanging banners of the Houses swathed the Hall in color – Gryffindor red, Ravenclaw blue, Hufflepuff yellow, and Slytherin green. For the most part, the atmosphere was festive and enjoyable.

Harry was far from feeling it, however.

"Hey, brighten up, mate," Ron urged him, taking a seat to his right. "We're at Hogwarts now. You're away from those rotten Muggles for another year."

"Yeah," Harry muttered unconvincingly.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You haven't been acting well at all."

"I dunno," he replied. "Just... too much is happening."

"I feel for you, Harry, I really do," Ron said concernedly. "But Dumbledore's working on things. Soon everyone'll know about You-Know-Who..."  
  
_"Ron!" _hissed Hermione. "We're not supposed to talk about that in the open!"

"Excuse me, Hermione..." Ron snapped.

Harry tuned their argument out. He had too much else on his mind to try to stop their bickering. Between the dementors attacking him and Dudley at Privet Drive, his near expulsion from Hogwarts for defending himself from said dementors, the fact that the entire Ministry of Magic and much of the wizarding world – including many of his classmates – regarded him as a disturbed attention-seeking troublemaker, and most recently his bizarre hallucination of those frightening winged horses pulling the school carriages, he couldn't think straight. There was so much happening, and the worst of it was that it was all out of his control.

"Wonder where Hagrid is," he managed at last.

"You don't think they sacked him, do you?" Neville asked plaintively. "For being half-giant and all?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't let them," Hermione assured him.

"What I want to know is who they've got for the Dark Arts teacher this year," Ron wondered. "I mean, Lupin was great, but he's not coming back, is he?"

"Maybe they got someone from the Order..." began Ginny, but she caught herself. "Maybe one of Dumbledore's friends took the post."

"Fat chance," George retorted. "Ministry'd smell too much trouble." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the tabletop. "C'mon, start the feast, will ya?"

"Can't you wait until the Sorting's done?" demanded Hermione with a tone of disgust.

"Raymond, Ophelia!" called McGonagall.

The Sorting Hat was placed on the head of a tiny freckled girl who stared about the Hall with wide gray eyes. Harry suspected she was Muggle-born, from the look of utter awe on her face.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat announced.

Ophelia Raymond doffed the hat and ran to her table while the room erupted into cheers.

"They're at the Rs, not too much longer," moaned Fred, a look of long-suffering on his face.

At last the final student was Sorted into the proper house – Rose Zeller into Hufflepuff – and Dumbledore rose from his seat.

"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old friends, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not. Tuck in!"

The crowd cheered as the golden plates on the table overflowed with meats, pies, breads, flagons of pumpkin juice, and dishes of every kind. Harry soon forgot his troubles and lost himself in a steak-and-kidney pie.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, students," Nearly Headless Nick greeted, gazing wistfully at the feast before him before taking a seat next to Ron. "And welcome back, Harry. Close shave at the Ministry, I hear?"

Harry nodded as he reached for a treacle tart.

"Did you hear who our next Dark Arts Professor is, Nick?" asked Dean Thomas eagerly.

"Oh, the word gets around," Nick replied. "The ghosts all paid him a respectful visit this morning. Peeves was all set to greet him in his usual manner..."

"How's Peeves greet new professors?" asked Colin Creevey, as if Peeves tormenting the newest teacher was the greatest occasion in history.

"Generally goes through their luggage and seasons it with Zonko's Itching Powder," Nick replied in a bored sort of voice. "That stuff doesn't wash off, you know. But the new teacher caught him in the act and... well... Madam Pomfrey didn't really take kindly to having a poltergeist in the hospital wing."

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Lavender Brown. "He didn't try to kill Peeves, did he?"

"No, but he did teach him a good lesson. I daresay that's one professor that Peeves won't be hassling in the future."

"But who is he?" demanded Dean. "Who's the new teacher? And where is he?"

"He'll be here shortly," Nick assured him. "Had to send a message to..."

The door to the Great Hall swung open with a creak of hinges.

A collective shriek rose up from the first years. The rest of the students gasped. Neville went white. Colin and Dennis gaped. A Slytherin fourth year would earn humiliation for the rest of the year by fainting headfirst into her Yorkshire pudding.

A man – if he could be called that – strode into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the flagstones, his breathing oddly amplified and filling the now-silent chamber. Instead of wizard's robes, he wore glistening leather-and-metal armor, all the same glossy jet-black, and a billowing black cloak trailed behind him like the robes of a dementor. Lights blinked on a strange panel on his broad chest, and a control-laden belt circled his waist. A mask obscured his face – a terrifying skull-like mask that gleamed in the Hall's lights. His obsidian gaze swept over the students, silent and menacing.

If the silence had continued a moment longer panic might have broken out, but Dumbledore stood and motioned for the man to come to the staff table.

"May I introduce," he announced, "Professor Darth Vader, our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Applause erupted from many of the Muggle-born students, and the Slytherins looked positively delighted. No surprise there – Slytherin had turned out more dark witches and wizards than any other House, and Professor Vader looked dark enough himself.

"He's a Death Eater!" Neville cried.

"Don't be daft!" Fred replied, an enthusiastic grin on his face. "He's a vampire!"

"He's Darth Vader," Hermione snapped. "Honestly, I'd think at least Harry would know him!"

"I've seen him before," Harry confessed. "It was a movie on television. I only caught a few seconds of it before Uncle Vernon tossed me out of the room."

Vader took his seat between Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Both of them smiled and cheerily introduced themselves, and Vader nodded solemnly in greeting. From the opposite end of the table, however, Snape gave Vader the venomous glower that he usually reserved for Harry. Having been passed over yet again for the Dark Arts post in favor of a complete outsider to the magical community no doubt rankled him deeply.

"Who's Darth Vader?" Ron asked in an unusually high voice.

"He's a powerful Sith Lord and the Emperor's right-hand man in the 'Star Wars' movies," she replied. "He's adept in the dark side of the Force – which is like magic," she said by way of explanation when a few students offered her blank stares.

"But he's just a movie character!" Dennis Creevey exclaimed. "He can't be real!"

"And I suppose before your brother received his owl, you thought magic couldn't be real," Nick pointed out. "I assure you he's real enough, though why Dumbledore hired an Imperial is beyond my understanding. The Galactic Empire's never bothered with the magical world before..."

"The Empire exists?" asked Dean, amazed.

"Yeah, my dad's worked with Imperials before," Ron remarked. "He helped them track down a criminal that was hiding in Slovenia and impersonating a cab driver... finally caught him trying to rebuild the cab to make a skycar, and Dad decided to try it himself with our car..."

"The Empire mostly keeps to itself," Nick explained, looking highly disinterested in this turn of the conversation. "The Ministry does exchange information with them on a regular basis, but until this August the Empire showed no interest in our affairs." He waved at the staff table with a silvery hand. "Then this one shows up and demands a job. Taking time off from the Empire, he says, needs a less strenuous career for a year. A bucket of stewed hippogriff droppings, if you ask me. It's my private opinion that the Ministry is in bed with the Empire now and has sent a spy into Hogwarts."

"But if the Empire keeps to itself, how do the Muggles know of it?" asked Harry, now thoroughly interested.

"A student named George Lucas attended Hogwarts years and years ago," Nick went on. "He was prefect and Head Boy and a Chaser for the Gryffindor team... he had everything going for him. But the Headmaster caught him practicing the Imperius Curse on the school's house elves in his seventh year."

"He used an Unforgivable Curse on a house elf?!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked.

"Yes, well, if he'd been doing it to a fellow student, it would have landed him in Azkaban for life. Seeing as house elves aren't exactly human..." Nick earned a highly offended glare from Hermione, "...his crime wasn't as serious, but it was an Unforgivable Curse, and the Ministry had to act. He maintained that it was all a big joke and the elves didn't seem to mind – they were used to taking orders all the time anyhow – but he was promptly expelled and sentenced to a two-year term in Azkaban nonetheless."

"But he escaped, didn't he?" gushed Fred.

"Yes, he saw it coming," Nick replied. "Apparently he's a direct descendent of the Seer Cassandra Trelawney, just as your dear Professor Trelawney is. The key difference is that Lucas most definitely does possess the Gift, unlike Trelawney, whose Seer power is always questionable at best. So he foretold his own escape and, true to his word, fled Azkaban. I understand he's now living as an American Muggle and making quite a tidy profit from his Seer gift."

"I should say!" exclaimed Dean. "He foretold the rise of the Empire! Wait until Darth Vader hears about this!"

"_Professor _Vader, Dean," Hermione informed him crisply. "And frankly, I don't care if he's from the Galactic Empire or the Roman Empire, so long as he's a better teacher than Quirrel was."

"Hermione, _Lockhart _was a better teacher than Quirrel was," Ron retorted.

Before Hermione could fire off a retort, Dumbledore stood, clapping his hands to signal for silence.

"Now that we have all been fed and watered, I beg a few moments of your attention to give the usual announcements," he said in his deep, gentle voice. "First years would be wise to take note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, as is the village of Hogsmeade to anyone under third year. Also, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list on his office door."

Fred and George smirked. The two of them had launched a vicious war on Filch ever since their first year at Hogwarts.

"We would also like to welcome our two newest teachers – Professor Grubbly-Plank, back to serve as a substitute for our currently-absent Care of Magical Creatures Professor; and of course, Professor Vader, here to teach our Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons."

Applause broke out once again when Vader's name was announced.

"Professor Vader would also like me to inform you that the men in white you will be seeing around the castle this year are his personal guards, and that you will be advised to not disturb them in their duties. Generally, if you let them be, they will let you be. Also, a warning has been issued regarding the bathrooms on the third floor – don't be alarmed by the noises the toilets make when you flush them, it's perfectly harmless. We're working on repairing them, but as we can't find the counterjinx yet, we implore you to be patient.

"Quiddich tryouts will begin in two weeks, so I advise anyone second year or over who wishes to represent their House out on the pitch to get some practice in. And if that is all..." He glanced back at the teachers, but none gave any indication that he had missed an announcement. "Then I suggest we all retire to our beds."

At that the plates wiped themselves clean, and the students began to file out of the Great Hall.

"Gryffindors this way!" Ron shouted.

"Have a care, Perfect Prefect Ronnie," George teased. "Most of us know how to get to Gryffindor Tower, we're not helpless."

A first year gave a sharp squeal as Professor Vader strode by, his cloak rippling. He halted and fixed the students with a penetrating gaze, which finally came to rest on Harry.

All at once his scar began tingling. No pain, not in the way it hurt like when Voldemort was upset or angry, but still horribly sensitive. He found he couldn't tear himself away from that ebon-black stare, couldn't break eye contact at all.

A mysterious, soundless voice seemed to echo through his brain – _I sense that we have something in common, Harry._

Then Vader continued on his way, and Harry found himself freed from that weird petrifaction. Shaking his head, he followed the rest of the Gryffindors.

"What was that about, Harry?" asked Neville. "You looked like you were going to faint."

"I dunno," Harry replied.

"When's our first Defense against the Dark Arts class?" demanded Seamus excitedly.

"This Wednesday, with the Slytherins," replied Dean. "Of all the rotten luck, another class with them. At least they switched us to work with the Hufflepuffs in Potions..."

Harry suddenly found himself dreading Wednesday.

-------

The curious thing about dreading an event is that, the more you hope it will never come, the faster it approaches. So it seemed only a matter of hours to him before he found himself walking through the classroom door, silently hoping that nothing would happen to him this year. Two of the last four Dark Arts teachers had tried to kill him, one had gotten sacked because of him, and still another had tried to take him, kicking and screaming, under his wing in the unwanted role of celebrity.

Somehow he had a feeling that Professor Vader would also exhibit a peculiar interest in him, and that was by no means a comforting thought.

"Just you wait, he's great!" Fred had praised the night before in the Gryffindor common room. "Really knows his stuff!"

"Of course he knows his stuff," Hermione muttered darkly as they pushed into the classroom. "He's a Dark Lord. Isn't it hypocritical to hire a Dark Lord to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

"Dad says he's better than the Ministry's choice," Ron retorted.

When they entered the room, Harry had to rub his eyes to be sure of what he was seeing. A bluish image was hanging in the air over the desk, slightly transparent and glowing softly. The image was made up of boxes in neat rows, each containing the name of a student.

"I think it's a seating chart," Harry told a stupefied Ron.

"Oh, the great Harry Potter thinks?"

Harry turned around to find Draco Malfoy smirking at him.

"Get lost, Malfoy," he snapped.

"How's it feel to be kicked off your high and mighty pedestal, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "I hear the whole Ministry thinks you're a wacko now. Maybe they can reserve a special room for you at St. Mungo's, eh? Call it the Delusional Psycho Potter Ward."

"Well, why don't you go to St. Mungo's yourself and get a brain transplant?" demanded Ron.

"Watch it, Weasel, or I'll put you in detention," Malfoy said gloatingly.

"That will be quite enough, gentlemen," a deep, somehow mechanical voice ordered.

The three of turned to find Vader glowering down at them. He locked eyes with Harry again, but to his immense relief his scar remained calm and no voices sounded in his head.

"Take your seats," he boomed. "And Mr. Malfoy, you would be wise to remember that in this room, only I am authorized to give detentions."

Malfoy slunk off, deflated.

"You will all sit in the desks assigned to you on the seating chart," Vader addressed the entire class, gesturing to the hovering picture. "If you have a problem with your seating assignment, state it now, because after today the assignments are permanent."

"I'd... uh... like to..." stammered Neville. Some fluke in the seating arrangement had placed him right next to Malfoy, who was eyeing him with a maliciously eager expression.

"Speak clearly, Mr. Longbottom," Vader ordered.

"He can't, Professor," Malfoy sniggered. "He's too thick to get out a sentence most of the time."

Neville's face became a brilliant pink as the Slytherins laughed derisively.

"Miss Granger, exchange seats with Mr. Malfoy," ordered Vader. "And that will be ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. I will tolerate no fighting or name-calling among students in my classroom."

Malfoy looked taken aback at this, but Neville looked considerably happier as Hermione settled in beside him.

"There will be several basic rules to be observed at all times in this class," Vader went on, giving a slight wave of his hand. The seating chart vanished, and as he gave the rules they appeared in floating blue letters. "There will be no talking while I am speaking. You will raise your hand and wait until called upon before asking questions or offering feedback. You will address me as Professor Vader or Sir at all times. In return I will address you as Mr. or Miss as the occasion permits. You will follow instructions the first time they are given, and if you don't understand those instructions ask for clarification immediately. I am not responsible for any damages you suffer for failing to follow directions. And as I stated before, there will be no fighting, insulting, or horseplay in this room. Anyone who objects to any of these rules is free to leave this class and accept a failing grade in return. Are there any questions?"

Dean's hand shot up like a rocket.

"Mr. Thomas?"

"Are you really Darth Vader, sir?" he asked eagerly. "I mean, you're not just some wizard in a mask, are you?"

Vader gave him a look that could best be described as disdainful. "I am Darth Vader, Mr. Thomas, of that you can be sure. As for your second comment, I am not a wizard, but a Je..." He paused and amended his answer. "A Sith. That is the equivalent of a wizard in our galaxy."

Hermione's hand went up next.

"Miss Granger?"

"I understand that the Sith practice the Dark Arts," she said cautiously. "How can you presume to teach us about how to defend ourselves from the Dark Arts if you use them yourself?"

"You are partially correct, Miss Granger. The Sith use the dark side of the Force. A wizard may call this the Dark Arts, but it is far more complex than that. As we are a different Order than the magic-users of your world, we are not practicers of the Dark Arts of your world. And as for how I can instruct you in defending yourselves from said Dark Arts, who better to teach you basic defense than one who knows the dangers of the dark side and exactly what effects they can have on the unwary?"

Harry wasn't about to argue that point, though it didn't make him feel any better.

Malfoy raised his hand.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"So if you're supposedly some great wizard or Sith or whatnot," he sneered, "why do you wear a shoddy Muggle costume?" He smiled gloatingly as Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"That is not your concern, Mr. Malfoy," Vader said in a stormy tone. "Ten points from Slytherin."

"What?" he demanded. "You can't do that to me!"

"I most assuredly can, Mr. Malfoy," he thundered. "If you paid attention to the rules, you would see that I have twice stated that insults will not be tolerated."

"That's a cauldron of bat's dung, you great Mudblood wizard impersonator!"

"Twenty more points from Slytherin," Vader boomed. "That makes thirty in all, Mr. Malfoy. Are we trying for an even fifty?"

Malfoy trembled with rage. Harry grinned. He'd thought he'd have trouble with Professor Vader this year, but it appeared that it would be Malfoy who would earn most of Vader's attention. Malfoy was always confident that his position as a pureblood and highborn wizard would win over any professor, but apparently Vader was unimpressed by lineage.

"If you wish your House to retain a few points by the end of this class period," Vader advised, "I would suggest that you sit down and keep your mouth firmly shut." He turned and removed a small disc-shaped object from his desk, and the floating letters vanished.

Malfoy suddenly shot from his seat, aiming his wand at Vader's caped back. "_Tarantallegra!"_

A flash of yellow fire crossed the room. Harry gulped in breath to shout out a warning, but just as "Look out!" burst from his and several other students' throats, Vader whirled, his right hand raised. The spell glanced off the palm of his hand and struck the ceiling, raining sparks down on the class' heads.

Malfoy looked as if he'd just been hit with a board. The entire class was silent, awed. Hermione looked impressed, a rare feat indeed.

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy, and one hundred points from Slytherin," Vader snarled. "The only reason your punishment stands there is that you have unwittingly given an example of what this class will be learning to do this term."

Malfoy sank into his seat, still stunned beyond words.

"Wasn't that the... oops!" Hermione quickly raised her hand.

"Continue speaking, Miss Granger."

"Wasn't that the Shield Charm?" she finished. "I've never seen anyone do that without speaking the incantation first."

"You are correct, Miss Granger, in saying that a Shield Charm can be useful in blocking an attack," Vader replied. "However, one does not require a charm, hex, jinx, curse, or even a wand to use magic. The Jedi and Sith are able to draw on the Force without the aid of a wand."

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed Ron. "Oops, sorry."

"Raise your hand, Mr. Weasley," Vader instructed. "That is your only warning. And no, it is not impossible. Many of you in this room have probably drawn on magic without the use of your wand in times of great emotional duress, have you not?"

Harry remembered the summer before his first year at Hogwarts, when he'd accidentally freed the boa constrictor in the London Zoo. And of course, the fiasco his third year when he'd inflated Aunt Marge, something Uncle Vernon had never forgiven him for.

"Perhaps a second demonstration is in order," Vader mused. "Stand, Miss Granger. I will need your services."

She rose from her desk.

"Cast a spell upon me," he ordered. "Something you would use to attack a foe."

"I don't want to hurt you, Professor," she said unsurely.

"Don't worry," he replied. "You won't."

She raised her wand. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

No visible jet of light issued from Hermione's wand, but Vader raised a hand anyhow. His fingers stiffened slightly, as if absorbing the spell, then he lowered it.

"Again," he ordered. "A different spell."

Hermione looked utterly frightened. Unlike Malfoy, who took great relish in jinxing anyone (even a teacher, apparently), Hermione would swallow Stinksap before willingly cursing a professor.

"_Stupefy!" _she said at last.

For the third time a spell bounced easily from Vader's raised palm, and the class broke into applause.

"You may be seated, Miss Granger," he told her. "Ten points for Gryffindor."

Having earned her House points seemed to assuage her concern, and she sat down with a smile.

"Perfect Hermione the Mudblood," grumbled Pansy from her seat behind Harry.

"And ten points from Slytherin, Miss Parkinson," snapped Vader.

She gave a squeak of indignation but shut up.

"It takes great mental discipline to effectively block a spell," Vader told the class. "It will take weeks before any of you can do it without the aid of your wand, as you are used to relying on it." He lifted a sheaf of papers from his desk. "Miss Brown, pass these out to the class. They are a brief overview of what we will be covering this year."

Harry took his sheet and inspected it:

Defense Against the Dark Arts Year V Class Goals 

Recognizing curses, jinxes, hexes, and other potentially harmful spells

Using magic to quickly and successfully deflect these spells, with and without wands

Using simple but effective counterspells to incapacitate an attacker

Using specialized spells for specific creatures, attackers, and situations (i.e. the Patronus Charm)

Recognizing situations in which using magic can exacerbate the problem, and using methods to escape said situations intact

"As you can see, we have a lot to cover this term," he continued. "That is why unnecessary interruptions and distractions will NOT be tolerated under any circumstances. I expect utmost dedication from you this year, especially if you wish to pass your O.W.L. examinations. Am I clear?"

No one dared speak, but a few students managed nods.

"Are there any questions?"

After a long silence, Seamus finally raised his hand.

"Mr. Finnagin?"

"This is a bit off the subject, sir," he said, "but do you believe that... that You-Know-Who is really back? Like Dumbledore and Potter are always saying?"

Harry swallowed back some angry bile. Of course Seamus would say that. He'd once been a friend, but ever since the Tri-wizard Tournament ended last year he'd been very suspicious of Harry's declaration that Voldemort had returned. That wasn't unusual – most of the wizarding world believed he was lying – but he'd hoped to gain a bit more support in his own House.

"Lord Voldemort," Vader corrected, making the entire class flinch. "Referring to a wizard as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a ridiculous practice. If you cannot call him by his true name, don't speak of him at all."

Seamus shrank in his seat. "Sorry, sir."

"Do not be sorry," Vader replied. "Your question is by no means off the subject. Dumbledore has always maintained that Voldemort was never dead, only resting and rebuilding his power. And yes, he has returned, Seamus, try as many might to deny it. That is precisely why it is imperative for you to learn everything you can here, that you might be protected should you ever encounter him or one of his followers."

The class shifted restlessly, suddenly divided. Some believed the rumors that Voldemort was back. Others wanted to believe but were afraid of losing friends and alienating family if they spoke out against the Ministry. Still others scowled at Vader for daring to side with Potter and Dumbledore.

Before anything else could be said, the dismissal bell rang. The entire class leaped to their feet.

"The bell does not dismiss you!" Vader boomed, and everyone promptly fell back into their seats. "Now you may go."

"Howling mad, isn't he?" a Slytherin boy Harry didn't recognize grumbled as the students shuffled out. "Lost his mind just like Potter."

"I think he was fascinating," Ron replied. "Imagine it, not needing a wand to use magic!"

"I have to admit, he was better than I thought he would be," Hermione confessed. "I do hope we get to cover the Patronus Charm! That's a fascinating bit of magic, isn't it?"

Harry was about to reply, but then stopped and turned back to the classroom.

"Harry?" asked Ron.

"Forgot my quill," he replied.

The eagle-feather quill had fallen beneath his desk, and he got down on his hands and knees to retrieve it. 

"Do you need something, Mr. Potter?"

"_Ouch!"_ he yelped, jumping at Professor Vader's voice and hitting his head on the underside of the desk. "No, just forgot something..." He scrambled to his feet and began to brush off his robes.

For the second time that week Vader made eye contact with Harry, and for the second time he found himself locked in that ebony gaze. Something rippled through his head, as if his mind were a book and someone was riffling the pages, scanning the information within. His scar prickled uncomfortably.

At last the weird sensation ceased, and Vader turned back to his desk. "Go, Potter."

He wasted no time in making himself scarce.


	3. Visits From Snape and Trelawney

**Chapter 2 – Visits from Snape and Trelawney**

Peeves had somehow damaged Vader's docupad while rummaging through his possessions – something he wouldn't be doing again – so Vader had decided to resort to the wizard's method of communication. An owl would take the letter to an Imperial outpost in the Scotland highlands, where it would be scanned and transmitted electronically to the Emperor. However, that first meant penning the letter out longhand.

In the galaxy at large, handwriting was becoming a lost art. So many people relied on text processing software that only a select few could scrawl out more than their signatures in a legible manner. Penmanship was a required line of study in the Jedi Temple, however, and though Vader usually tried to forget about his past as a Jedi, he was grateful that he had learned a few useful things from the Order.

Malfoy fidgeted uncomfortably in front of his desk, glancing nervously at the stormtroopers flanking him from time to time. Vader ignored the boy, letting him stew awhile while he completed his message. He had little liking for highborn brats like this, and even though Dumbledore had forbidden him from exacting harsh punishments upon the students, he was certainly going to teach this one a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

But he completed the letter first.

_Master Sidious, _

_I am sending this message in answer to your request that I notify you as soon as I reached my destination. I am currently at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the planet of Earth. From what Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has told me, mechanical means of communication do not work properly on the school's grounds; thus, all further communications with you must be through writing._

_There is a great controversy within the Force-wielding community on this world. The Dark Lord Voldemort is rumored to have risen again, despite Ministry claims to the contrary. Whether he intends to take over the Empire as well as the government here is unclear. I will keep you informed as more information regarding this self-styled Dark Lord is made available._

He paused, considered, then continued writing.

_There is a boy at this school, one Harry Potter. I sense something unusual about him. He is legendary on this world for surviving a direct attack from the aforementioned Voldemort as well as facing him down no less than three times during his studies at Hogwarts. There is something strange about this boy, something I intend to investigate while here._

_I am always at your service._

_Lord Darth Vader_

That completed, he set the quill aside and capped the inkbottle, waiting for the parchment to dry.

"This stinks," Malfoy complained.

"It's detention, Malfoy," Vader replied coolly. "It's supposed to stink."

"I can't believe I'm even here," Malfoy sniffed. "When my father gets word of this, he'll..."

"As a professor at this school, my word overrides that of your father's," Vader retorted. "I understand your father has considerable monetary influence within the Ministry of Magic, but he – and you – would be wise to remember that the power of gold and blood only extend so far." He folded the message for the Emperor and handed it to the screech owl that waited on his desk. It took the letter in its beak and soared out the window.

Malfoy puffed out his chest. "So the mighty Darth Vader's going to punish me. What are you going to do? Flog me? Unleash one of those Muggle torture machines I've heard about?"

"Such methods, unfortunately, have been banned by your long-suffering Headmaster," Vader replied. "I have other plans for you, Mr. Malfoy."

A third stormtrooper entered the room. "Sir, Mr. Argus Filch is here."

"Show him in."

Malfoy looked as if he'd just smelled something highly unpleasant. "Filch?"

The wizened, greasy-haired caretaker of the castle limped into the room, carrying his scrawny cat under one arm. "You called me, Professor?"

"This young man is scheduled to serve detention this evening," Vader replied, waving his hand at Malfoy. "As I am new to this school, I am unsure of what punishment could be deemed appropriate in this situation. Thus, I am turning the duty over to you."

Malfoy's face went even whiter than usual.  
  
"What'd he do?" demanded Filch, his eyes glittering eagerly. "Oh, never mind the details, I'll handle this, Professor. Indeed I will."

"Then he's all yours. My men will accompany you to prevent his escape."

"You can't do this to me!" Malfoy shrieked as the soldiers ushered him and the caretaker out of his office.

Vader spared no words for a retort but swiveled his chair to stare into the office's fireplace. His tasks for the evening accomplished, he took some time to relax in meditation, reflecting on the events of the past few weeks.

Over the fireplace sat a small ebony box in which his new wand rested ("Black walnut and dragon heartstring, nice and supple, excellent for jinxes and countercurses" the shopkeeper at Ollivander's had informed him). Though he needed no wand to access magic, Dumbledore had suggested he acquire one in order to demonstrate traditional spells. Vader had yet to pick it up, however – it only served to remind him of his banishment here.

He didn't really want to be here. Given the option, he would have stayed aboard the Executor and continued pursuing the Rebel fleet. But he'd had no choice. Palpatine had practically forced this year of vacation – exile, actually – on him, claiming that he hadn't been the same since the Bespin duel and that he needed some time off. The Emperor had even suggested several locations he'd deemed ideal for temporary retirement – though Vader didn't even want to consider what the Emperor thought of as "ideal."

It was against the Emperor's wishes that he'd finally decided to take the job at Hogwarts. The fewer Force-strongs trained on this backwater world, Palpatine theorized, the better. In the end, though, the monarch had relented, provided Vader supplied the Empire with information regarding the state of the wizards' world from time to time.

A crash and a gleeful cackle from the corridor outside his office signaled another attack on a hapless student or staff member courtesy of the resident poltergeist. Well, at least this would prove to be an interesting job. What with the talking paintings, ghosts, Peeves, centaurs, and the unpredictability of children and teenagers in general, he could count on keeping busy.

But the thing that had most intrigued him was that boy... Harry Potter. Somehow he felt a strange kinship with him. It wasn't that he was more Force-strong than the other students. It was more as if he were marked, not just by that odd scar, but also by other, stranger means. Could it be that the Jedi had been wrong all along, and that this Potter was the Chosen One?

_Don't be an idiot,_ he told himself. _You are the Chosen One. You simply brought balance to the Force in a manner the Jedi didn't consider. And I highly doubt that there can be more than one Chosen One..._

A stormtrooper entered the room. "Sir, Mr. Severus Snape is here to see you."

What did he want? "Show him in."

Two soldiers escorted the beak-nosed Potions Professor into the room. His robes flared out like the wings of some overgrown bat as he walked. His straight black hair fell in a greasy curtain to his shoulders, and his eyes were narrow and shrewish, taking everything in with a calculating look. Those eyes flashed with barely restrained contempt when they rested on Vader, and his mouth took on a peculiar tightness. Vader stood, towering over the man and sending the signal that in this room, he was the superior.

"What do you want, Snape?" he asked coldly.

"Simply to offer my congratulations that you obtained the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," Snape replied in an oily voice. "You must be very brave – or very foolish. No teacher has made it longer than three years at this post. It's a rather... risky proposition."

"I'll take the risk," Vader retorted.

"Oh? You hope to break the record?" He offered the Dark Lord a disdainful sneer.

"No, actually. I am only taking this post for a year. After that, you may try your luck again at securing the job. Though if I were you, Snape, I'd know when to admit defeat."

Snape's eyes narrowed even more. "I feel impressed to inform you that there is a certain student among your pupils who had a certain disregard for rules, one Harry Potter. If I were you, I'd take a firm hand in controlling his escapades."

"I will be the judge of the students," Vader replied, folding his arms over his chest. "And so far Mr. Potter has respected my rules. On the other hand, a certain student of your House seems to consider himself above the rules – Draco Malfoy. If you agree to keep a tight watch on Mr. Malfoy, I will follow your suggestion regarding Mr. Potter."

Snape's features hardened considerably.

"I take it that there will be no deal?" Vader asked.

"I'll deal with Malfoy," Snape snapped. "As for you, Mr. Vader, I would watch your back. Unpleasant things have been known to befall Dark Arts Professors here."

"Are you threatening me, Snape?" demanded Vader, one hand straying toward his lightsaber.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." He offered a thin, badly faked smile. "Just a warning. And may I suggest that you consider a wardrobe change, especially the mask? Frankly, I've seen more attractive cauldrons."

Vader silently both thanked and cursed the stormtrooper that serendipitously entered the room at that moment. Had the stormtrooper been thirty seconds later, he would have walked in on a furious duel between Snape and Vader.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Sir, Miss Sibyll Trelawney wants a word with you."

"Show her in."

Snape gave a slight, mocking bow. "Keep my warnings in mind, Mr. Vader, and goodbye." He swept out, nearly colliding with Divination Professor Trelawney on his way out.

If Snape resembled a bat, Trelawney bore a distinct similarity to an enormous dragonfly. Dripping with scarves, beads, and bracelets, with her eyes queerly magnified by her round spectacles, she didn't walk so much as she glided across the floor. A heavy smell of incense and herbal tea followed her in – it must have been suffocating to anyone else if he could detect it through his mask. She offered him a dreamy smile and extended a hand in welcome.

"Lord Vader," she breathed in an airy tone, "I perceived through the ethers of time that we would be receiving an important visitor at Hogwarts, and now you have arrived here in all your glory. I welcome you to Hogwarts and wish you a happy time here."

_Good stars, what drug is this woman on?_ Vader thought.

"Thank you, Trelawney," he told her aloud. "I presume, however, that you are not here simply to say hello."

"Ah, you are perceptive, Vader," she noted. "I came here to invite you to my tower for a reading of your future. The Inner Eye can enrich your life in mysterious ways..."

"No thank you," he replied. The last thing he needed to be mixed up in was another prophecy.

"Are you sure?" She gazed at his hands. "Not even a simple palm reading? The hands can be the key to the future."

"No thank you," he repeated firmly.

"But then, a tea reading is more accurate... though the crystal ball produces the clearest images by far..."

"No," he insisted.

"If you're sure," she sighed, turning to go. "But I must wonder, my dear, if your reluctance to read into your future doesn't stem from some innate aura of your own. Do you know of the tragedy in your future and, thus, dread it?"

"Get out," he ordered.

She placed a hand to her forehead as if about to swoon. "Oh! The Inner Eye has opened... I foresee great trouble in your future... a woman in your life is about to cause you pain... great pain..."

That did it. He'd had more than enough of this madness. "TK-705!"

The trooper stepped into the room. "Sir."

"Escort Professor Trelawney back to her tower at once!"

"Yes sir." He took the still-babbling witch by the arm and led her out.

Vader flopped back into his chair with a weary sigh. He didn't know who got on his nerves more, Snape or Trelawney. The first was clearly going to be his greatest rival at Hogwarts, but the second was a well-intentioned annoyance that would drive him insane if he didn't find some way to ward her off.

_Woman in my life... that's a laugh,_ he thought acidly. _There's been no woman for twenty-four years. She's no more a Seer than I am a Jedi._

-------

Harry lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling. Ron's snores and the scratch of a quill as Neville penned a letter to his grandmother weren't what was keeping him awake; it was dread of the dreams that had haunted his nights for the past few months.

_I just wish I knew what was on the other side of that door,_ he thought, pulling the blanket up to his chin. And why it's so important to Voldemort anyhow. Is there a secret weapon behind there or something?

His scar remained mercifully quiet, but all the same he reached up and rubbed it gently. Why had it bothered him when Vader had probed his mind? It had never acted up in quite that way before. Dumbledore had said that he could feel through the scar when Voldemort was feeling powerful emotion, but he hadn't mentioned anything else relating to it.

And what had Vader wanted anyhow? If the Ministry and Empire did communicate on a regular basis, it made sense that Vader would have already known something of Harry's defeat of Voldemort. Maybe he wanted to know if he was telling the truth about seeing Voldemort's return. Maybe he wanted to know just how Harry had survived the Dark Lord's first attack.

_Or maybe he's just nosy._

At any rate, he wasn't going to ask. Other students might think having a Sith as a teacher was great fun, but Vader only creeped Harry out in a way he couldn't describe. He only hoped that Vader would let him alone for the rest of the term.

At long last he pulled the covers over his head and lapsed once again into a fitful sleep, where the mysterious door remained just out of reach.

-------

Many miles away, in a decrepit manor quite overgrown with ivy and weeds, Lord Voldemort also thought of Vader.

The news that an Imperial was working at Hogwarts was by no means secret – it had whipped the wizarding world into a frenzy that made Harry Potter's controversial story of Voldemort's return seem like a minor bar squabble. Some parents had threatened to pull their students out of the school unless Vader was promptly sacked. Many wizards wondered if this wasn't some plot of the Empire's to spy on the magic world's dealings. Ministry officials were outraged that Dumbledore had chosen a complete outsider to their world over their perfectly qualified Ministry-appointed teacher.

Such petty quarrels were beneath Voldemort's notice. He had no interest in the aftershocks of this situation. No, his gaze was fixed at the heart of the matter.

_A Dark Lord at Hogwarts,_ he thought, stroking the banded snake on his lap with a claw-like finger. _Dumbledore must be desperate indeed to ally himself with a Sith._

He'd heard tales of the Sith, of course. They were an infamous force in the galaxy beyond Earth. And Lord Darth Vader was himself a legend, capable of killing with a gesture, manipulating minds, raising and throwing objects with the mere power of suggestion, and much more. A near-perfect blend of machinery and man, ruthless, fearless... he could be a great enemy or a worthy ally, especially in his current position at Hogwarts. If Voldemort could reach the man...

But Vader had a weakness – honor. Despite the brutal Sith training designed to crush all undesirable traits out of an apprentice, Vader retained a sense of honor. Honor was a crippling flaw. Honor led one to follow the softer path, to make errors. Honor led to failure.

Voldemort detested honor.

He caressed Nagini's triangular head, thoughtful. Perhaps it wasn't Vader's loyalty he sought after all, but another's. One who already had a firm control over the man, one who also regarded honor as a failing, one who could be as ruthless and merciless a leader as Voldemort was himself.

"Wormtail," he rasped.

"Y-y-yes, my master?" the pathetic little wizard replied, trembling with terror. Voldemort felt his bloodless lips tighten in a gleeful smile. How he enjoyed tormenting this man. But there wasn't time for such frivolities at the moment.

"Call for Malfoy. I'll be needing his services."

"Y-y-yes, my Lord."

"And prepare the drawing room. We'll be having royal company in a few days, and it won't do to have the place a shambles."


	4. The Woes of a Stormtrooper

**Chapter 3 – The Woes of a Stormtrooper**

Dumbledore had said at the beginning of the term that if the students let the stormtroopers wandering the halls be, the stormtroopers would pretty much leave them alone. But no one, especially not the Weasley twins, seemed to pay the suggestion much mind. It became a sort of game to jinx, hex, and otherwise torment the soldiers.

The first glimpse Harry got of a stormtrooper was on his way to Potions Class three weeks into the school year. Professor Flitwick was marching down the hall with as much authority as he could muster, ushering students out of the way.

"Back away, students, we don't know if he's contagious yet!" he squeaked. "Clear the way, sick man going to the hospital wing! Move aside! That means you too, Parvati, I'm sure he doesn't appreciate your gawking..."

Angelina and a Ravenclaw sixth year Harry didn't recognize were supporting each side of a rather exhausted-looking stormtrooper, wearing identical expressions of extreme reluctance. The trooper, meanwhile, seemed to have been halfway transfigured into a slug – from the waist down, he was a mass of slime. Flitwick continued to bark orders as they passed by, leaving a slippery trail in their wake.

"Blimey," Ron moaned, "Filch is gonna have a fit."

"Who would be so low as to do that?" Hermione demanded.

Harry didn't reply, but he did recall Malfoy looking awfully triumphant in their Care of Magical Creatures class earlier.

"And he can't even use magic to defend himself!" Hermione went on. "Honestly, whoever did that should be ashamed of themselves."

"C'mon, Herm, it's all in fun," Dean replied. "I see the Weasley twins jinxing troopers all the time, and the troops are in on the game. They fight over whose turn it is to patrol Gryffindor tower just to see what kind of hex'll pop up this time."

"I still don't agree with it," Hermione said scathingly. "It's as bad as cursing a house elf."

"Honestly, haven't you given up on 'spew' yet?" Ron asked in exasperation.

"S.P.E.W., Ron," she retorted, "and I won't give up on it until instances such as the one that rightfully got Lucas expelled never happen anymore!"

After class, all the Gryffindors found themselves burdened with extra Potions homework – Snape had declared each and every one of their Peace Potions to be faulty and deducted fifty points from their house, as well as assigned them an essay no less than a parchment long on the properties of the potion's ingredients.

"He's just mad at Professor Vader," Harry theorized. "And he's taking it out on us."

"Couldn't he at least take it out on a stormtrooper?" moaned Ron. "I can't do this and write out an entire planetary chart for Trelawney too."

"Stop whining, Ron," Hermione snapped. "I think it's grossly unfair as well. There wasn't anything wrong with my potion, and he still assigned me the essay..."

At that moment, Peeves shot around the bend, cackling madly and shooting toward them like a rocket. He was wearing a stormtrooper's helmet, his belled hat perched haphazardly atop it, and he straddled a blaster rifle beneath him as if it were a broomstick. Hot on his heels came three stormtroopers, two with rifles, the third with a pistol.

"Stop him!" the first one, obviously some sort of officer, ordered.

Harry wasn't sure they'd actually meant for them to do anything, but Hermione acted anyway. With a swift motion she flicked out her wand and aimed it at Peeves.

"_Immobilus_!" she cried.

Peeves froze in mid-cackle, hanging in the air like a misshapen helium balloon. The troopers slowed to a walk and approached her.

"Don't know how you can do that," the commander noted, "but I'm glad you can."

"Please tell me we're authorized to shoot the poltergeist," pleaded one trooper.

"I dunno if he can even be killed," Ron said with a shrug. "He's been here for ages – no one but Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron can control him..."

"_Accio Helmet and Rifle_," Harry murmured, catching the items and offering them to the commander.

"I definitely should've put in for that transfer to Thyferra," grumbled the trooper who'd asked if he could shoot Peeves.

"Shut up, 467," retorted the second trooper.

"I've had enough of this place!" 467 snapped. "The damned talking pictures always butting into my business and the Sith-spawned poltergeist stirring up chaos and kids hexing me every time I turn a corner... I spent four hours in the hospital wing yesterday having that cranky nurse shrink my feet back to their normal size... I've gotten stuck in that trick staircase so many times it's a wonder I haven't broken a leg..."

"Soldier!" the commander barked. "Shut up or ship out! 742 didn't ask to be here either, and you don't see him complaining!"

"I actually like it here," 742 mused. "Charming place. And the students don't mean any harm..."

"You haven't been transfigured yet, have you?" 467 shot back.

"Actually, I was turned into a lizard my first day patrolling the dungeons," 742 replied. "And believe me, there's a lot you can do as a lizard that you can't as a human..."

"I give up!" huffed 467, storming off.

The commander sighed. "Thanks again for the help," he told Hermione, and he and 742 strode off.

"I wonder who turned him into a lizard," Harry said.

"Probably a Slytherin," Ron replied. "Uh, shouldn't we unfreeze Peeves?"

"Leave him," Hermione advised. "Teach him a lesson. Besides, it'll wear off soon enough."

After that, a day didn't go by when a stormtrooper wasn't seen hurrying off to see Madam Pomfrey or a teacher to have some ailment or other amended. Once, on his way to Quiddich practice, he was nearly run down by a trooper rushing his comrade to the hospital wing, a scarf wrapped around the poor man's head in a vain attempt to disguise the fact that he was growing tusks. Another time, a whole line of troopers was seen waiting outside Professor Flitwick's office, awaiting a Silencing Charm to counteract the fact that their helmets were uttering a strange gonglike ringing every time they were touched. Neville swore he saw Professor McGonagall admit a grouchy-looking rooster into her office, then a few minutes later escort out an equally grouchy stormtrooper who still had a few stray feathers clinging to his armor.

Even Vader wasn't entirely safe from stray curses – especially from the Slytherins, who still hadn't forgiven him for docking a hundred and forty points from their house. But at least Vader was able to deflect the spells – and had the authority to punish his attackers. By the end of September, Slytherin was so far behind in House points that it would take a miracle for them to get back in the running, even with Snape adding points for trivial matters at every possible opportunity.

The conflict came to an ugly head one frosty night in early October, when six troopers went to investigate strange lights in one of the greenhouses. The perpetrators, a group of third years hoping to nip the answers to their next Herbology quiz, panicked upon being discovered and began firing spells indiscriminately in every direction. It took all the House prefects and Dumbledore's swift intervention to calm things down.

The result of the encounter – Professor Sprout was seen the next day carrying a bushel of acorn squashes to the hospital wing, the two students who had miraculously escaped transfiguration found themselves in detention for a solid week, and the lone untransfigured stormtrooper had to be shipped to St. Mungo's for rehabilitation, as no one could convince him that he wasn't a proton torpedo.

That evening Dumbledore addressed the students at dinner, chastising them for their unfriendly treatment of the stormtroopers and calling them to task. "You are to set a good example to the Empire. To these men, you represent Hogwarts and wizard-kind. Please act accordingly."

"Tell that to Snape," Harry mumbled, watching the Potions teacher and Vader exchange rather poisonous looks as they left the Great Hall in opposite directions.

"Five Galleons those two get caught up in a duel by the end of the week," Lee Jordon told Fred and George.

"Won't take it," Fred replied. "We know you'd win."

"Think Dumbledore's speech'll do anything to stop the jinxes?" asked Ron.

"You kidding?" Harry retorted, spearing a sausage. "The best way to encourage bad behavior is to ban it. I almost feel sorry for those stormtroopers now."

--------

The hallway leading to Vader's office was lined with stormtroopers, and each snapped to salute as Dumbledore walked past them. He allowed himself a slight smile. The Muggle soldiers were impressive enough, but he doubted they'd be enough to protect Vader should anyone come into the castle truly seeking to harm him. Oh well. Vader could certainly take care of himself in a fight. And if it made him feel better to have his guards around, Dumbledore would allow that.

The troopers at the door to the office stepped forward to question him, but upon recognizing him they stepped back, and one of them opened the door to allow him to enter. He noted with amusement that each of them had sprouted a squirrel's tail. Evidently he'd have to get a little sterner with the students. Then again, if it was harmless...

Vader was addressing Fred and George Weasley at the moment, but he nodded at the Headmaster and waved to a seat beside his desk, which was inexplicably charred as if by an explosion. The twins' expressions remained the same – each wore a self-satisfied, unrepentant grin.

"Perhaps you two can tell me why you are in detention this evening?" Vader asked them.

"No idea," Fred replied.

"Nothing comes to mind," George added.

"Nothing?" Vader repeated, folding his arms and leveling a piercing glower at them.

"Well," Fred confessed, his smile never fading, "we may have transfigured your what's-it-called – your holoprojector – into a bubotuber plant."

"And perhaps we set fire to our essays on the Unforgivable Curses," George admitted.

"But you didn't want to read them anyhow," Fred assured him.

"And I recall something about Garroting Gas in the stormtroopers' quarters," George added.

"And the Dungbombs in their helmets," Fred cut in.

"And the Filibuster firecracker in your desk," George responded. "Sorry about that. We'll buy you some new gloves, okay?"

"And transfiguring TK-577," Fred finished. "But he made a great hedgehog, really."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. All an average day for the twins, it seemed.

"And you found these pranks of yours amusing?" Vader inquired.

"Pretty amusing, yeah," George replied.

Vader glared a moment longer before nodding. "I see. Your teachers and classmates evidently find your escapades amusing as well, seeing as they've made no move to stop you. However, your latest misadventures have occurred while you were under my jurisdiction – and frankly, I am NOT amused."

The twins didn't bat an eye.

"You will spend this evening in detention working with Professor Grubbly-Plank in cleaning the Owlery," he informed them. "You will do so without the use of magic. You will surrender your wands before leaving this room, and my men will search you thoroughly before you leave. They will also escort you to the Owlery and keep guard over you. If you attempt to flee or attack either my men or Professor Grubbly-Plank, there will be serious consequences."

"Yes sir," they chimed in unison, placing their wands in Vader's hand.

The troopers herded the two of them out.

"That certainly isn't the worst punishment they've ever received," Dumbledore noted.

"It would have been harsher," Vader snorted, watching the door shut behind them. "But Grubbly-Plank specifically requested their aid tonight."

"You did well enough," he assured him. "But as you can well imagine, I did not come here to discuss Fred and George."

Vader seated himself behind the scorched desk. "What is it?"

"I have noticed that your relations with the other teachers are somewhat... less than cordial," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"For starters," Dumbledore said wryly, "the Astronomy professor has a fifty-Galleon wager with me regarding the outcome of your inevitable duel with Professor Snape. Also, I've been informed that you've had your men bodily haul Trelawney back to her tower on several occasions."

Vader made a sound best described as a snarl. "Perhaps you should be discussing this with those two. Snape is the one seeking me out to make threats and insults. And Trelawney is a distinct threat to my sanity."

"I have already had words with Snape," Dumbledore replied. "But I feel impressed to warn you to not cross Snape, Vader. He can be an invaluable ally... or a dangerous foe. I have cause to know this."

"Understood," Vader replied in a tone of distinct exasperation. "Is that all?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Try to warm up to the other teachers, Professor Vader," he encouraged. "We may be a bunch of old codgers, but we don't bite. And Trelawney's perfectly harmless, I can assure you. You need not give her a twenty-foot berth every time she passes you in the corridors. And the next time she invites you to her office for a reading of your future, why not comply? It certainly can't hurt anything, can it?"

"The woman is deranged," Vader retorted. "She was in here at the beginning of the term, raving about prophecies and the stars and the Inner Eye..."

"Yes, she can be a little dramatic. But try to humor her. I'm sure she becomes quite lonely up in her tower and could use a visit from time to time."

He stood and flicked his wand at Vader's desk, and the wood refurnished itself to its original glossy chestnut. "Have a good evening, Vader."

"May the Force be with you, Dumbledore," Vader replied as Dumbledore left the office.

---------

A hollow rapping at the drawing room door signaled the Emperor's arrival.

"Let him in, Wormtail," Voldemort ordered.

The tiny wizard scuttled to the door and swung it open. Two men in flaming-red robes and helmets immediately swept in, escorting a twisted robed creature with glowing orange eyes.

"Good evening, your Highness," Voldemort said smoothly, bowing at the waist.

"Lord Voldemort," the Emperor replied, nodding. "Your colleague Malfoy informed me that you wished to transact business of some sort."

"That I do." He gestured to the two richly embroidered chairs before the fireplace. "Won't you sit down and refresh yourself? I'm sure you've had a long journey."

"Guards, leave us," Palpatine ordered, and his escort immediately strode out the door.

"Wormtail, light a fire," hissed Voldemort.

"Y-yes, M-m-master." He shot a burst of flame from his wand into the hearth, and a hearty blaze roared to life.

"So you are the famed Lord Voldemort," the Emperor noted, dust fluming up from the chair as he lowered himself into it. "Known among your own people as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"It is a mark of power to know that your very name is considered too evil to repeat," Voldemort replied with a reptilian grin.

Palpatine laughed icily. "I like you, Voldemort. You and I seem to have much in common."

"Indeed. I would have scheduled this meeting many years earlier, but there have been... difficulties."

"Ah yes. I heard of your supposed 'death.' Though I must say it did wonders for your operations. Now that you're 'dead,' the Ministry of Magic doesn't need to keep an eye out for you, does it?"

It was Voldemort's turn to give a cold laugh. "And I suppose they told you I was going to take over the Empire, didn't they?"

Palpatine eyed him shrewdly. "If you weren't plotting a galactic takeover once you had this world in your clutches, you wouldn't be a Dark Lord, my friend."

"True enough. But I haven't the resources to take your Empire by force. Which is why I asked you to meet me here."

"What, if you can't beat them, join them?" the Emperor chuckled.

"Why not? If we join forces, we can be unstoppable. We could rule the galaxy together, with the Dark Arts as our ally."

The Emperor's smile widened. "You forget, Lord Voldemort, that the rule of the Sith is 'always two.' I already have an ally in my cause to subjugate the galaxy."

"Ah, Lord Vader," Voldemort sneered. "The cyborg employed by Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's one more thing we have in common, Palpatine – incompetent assistants." He fired a jet of blue light at Wormtail's backside, and he yelped shrilly and scuttled away as the two men laughed maliciously.

"Ever since he dueled his son on Cloud City, he's been acting decidedly odd," Palpatine mused, stroking his chin. "I wonder if he isn't contemplating joining the light."

"If he's under Dumbledore's influence, then I highly doubt he'll remain loyal to you for long."

"Good point. Perhaps it's time to replace Vader. I shall have to send an assassin to Hogwarts..."

"Not necessarily," countered Voldemort. "Think of it. Dumbledore is our greatest enemy. And Vader is still at least partially loyal to you and still believes he's your right-hand man. We have a potential spy on our hands – and he doesn't even realize that he will be plotting his own destruction by keeping you updated on what's going on inside Hogwarts."

Palpatine's eyes glittered malevolently. "You have a brilliant mind, Voldemort. Wicked, but brilliant. I think our partnership will be most productive." He stood and shook Voldemort's claw-like hand. "I shall have to send a message to my worthless apprentice. There are things we must know."


	5. The Third Prophecy

**Chapter 4 – The Third Prophecy**

Vader's methods of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts were decidedly unique, if not completely bizarre, Harry decided.

The first month and a half of the class was at least halfway normal – they studied the most dangerous curses and jinxes and their effects, as well as spells that could block them or counter their effects. Class time was generally divided between bookwork and wand practice, which Harry found himself thoroughly enjoying. Vader wielded his own wand effectively enough, but the way he used it suggested to Harry that he was unused to it.

Then things got weird.

"Put away your wands and books," Vader announced the fifth of October, striding into the classroom. "You won't be needing them. Rise from your desks and move out of the way." He made a sweeping motion with one hand, and the desks slid into the walls with jumbled thuds.

"Whoa!" gushed Ron. "Did you see that?"

"Of course we did, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "We're not blind, you know."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter, there will be no talking," Vader ordered. "I want all students to sit on the floor."

"Why?" demanded Pansy.

"Because I will deduct twenty points from Slytherin if you don't," Vader replied.

"What's going on?" whispered Ron as he and Harry sat beside each other.

"Got me," Harry replied.

"This is an exercise in learning to access the Force – what you call magic – without using your wands," Vader explained, seating himself before the class. "I do not expect you to be able to do so on your first attempt, but I expect you to make some headway today."

"Why are we learning this anyhow?" demanded Malfoy. "We've got wands."

"Ten points from Slytherin for speaking out of turn," Vader snapped. "You are learning this because a situation may arise in which your wand has been lost, damaged, or destroyed. In such a situation you must still be able to utilize your powers. The training you receive in this class could very well save your life someday."

Malfoy gave a disdainful snort.

"Everyone clear your minds," Vader went on. "Extend your senses. Reach deep within yourselves and feel the power of your magic. Become acquainted with it, one with it."

Harry sat a moment, unsure of what to do. Extend his senses? Feel the power of his magic? What was that supposed to mean? As far as he knew, his wand was his magic. No wand, no spells. A wizard without a wand was a Muggle, plain and simple.

Hermione's hand went up.

"Miss Granger, there will be no questions during this exercise," Vader informed her.

"But I don't understand, Professor," she protested. "What do you mean, 'the magic within us?'"

"I mean precisely that, Miss Granger," he replied. "The magic inside you that differentiates you from those you refer to as Muggles. Your wands are valuable tools, but they do not make you wizards. They merely channel the power from your body, as an electric cord channels power from a generator to a Muggle machine. If simply holding a wand made you a wizard, any Muggle could claim himself a wizard by owning one."

"Oh," she replied with a nod. "I see."

That explained it. But how was one supposed to get in touch with their inner magic?

He glanced over at Ron and saw he had squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. Not knowing what else to do, he followed his friend's example. In his mind he sifted through his memories, trying to find something relevant… anything…

The memory of his trip to the zoo with the Dursleys surfaced. Dudley's friend had pushed him down… and the glass enclosure surrounding the boa constrictor had vanished. That stumped him. He hadn't had a wand, and yet he'd freed the snake via magic. Vader had been correct all along. But how had he managed it?

He focused on that memory, digging deeper, replaying the events of the day. Deep inside him, he seemed to feel something familiar yet alien, part of him yet separate, something that had arisen that fateful day. He tried to concentrate on that presence…

Someone sneezed. He opened his eyes to see Vader giving Neville a cautionary glower.

"Sorry," Neville squeaked.

"Bless you," whispered Dean.

"Shh," hissed Hermione.

Harry closed his eyes again, trying to find whatever that had been again. At last he located it and tried his hardest to focus on it. Whatever it was, it felt good, he knew that much. Once he'd touched it, he didn't want to let go of it. It soothed him and flowed through his body, warming him like a mug of hot chocolate, only much more satisfying…

Something crashed in the hall, followed by the muffled sounds of stormtroopers cursing someone out and Peeves' hysterical laughter. All eyes went to the door.

"Keep your attention on the lesson," Vader ordered. "Distractions happen. Live with them."

Sure, he could say that. He was an expert at this sort of thing. Harry wasn't used to concentrating on magic in this manner. But now that he had the knack of it, it wasn't too hard to find that power inside him again. He immersed himself in it, letting it flow through him. It was in his skin, his bones, his veins… and it was everywhere else too, in the floor, in the air, in the walls, and especially in his fellow students. They practically glowed with it, and Vader… he stood out against the framework of magic like a bonfire. Intrigued, Harry extended himself slightly toward the professor, just to see what would happen.

An answering thrust of power met his touch, and his scar prickled again.

_I didn't expect you to come this far on your first try, Mr. Potter. But seeing as you've learned to access the Force by thought, perhaps it's time we had a talk._

He tried to jerk back, but Vader seemed to hold him fast. _What do you want from me, anyhow?_ he demanded.

_You are an enigma, Potter. There is something about you. You have faced the Dark Lord Voldemort four times and survived. This makes you no ordinary wizard. Yet I cannot discern what makes you so different from the other students at Hogwarts._

_Let me go!_

_I'm not holding you, Potter. You're free to end this conversation at any time_.

He did just that, dragging himself away from Vader's presence through sheer force of will. He drew the power tightly within himself, shaking at the contact. What did it matter to Vader how he'd survived Voldemort? Why was he so nosy anyhow? Harry just wanted to be left alone. And the last thing he needed was to be accosted by the Empire, especially when he already had the Ministry of Magic breathing down his neck, the Death Eaters after his hide, and the Order of the Phoenix monitoring his every move.

"This is crazy!" Malfoy announced, shooting to his feet. "We're just sitting here falling asleep! We're not learning anything! If I wanted to take a nap, I'd go to the Slytherin common room!"

"Shut up," snapped Seamus.

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Finnigan," Vader ordered. "And for your information, Mr. Malfoy, if you have made no progress by this point, it is because you haven't been trying."

"Why should I try?" Malfoy replied angrily. "I don't care what you say! I've got a wand, and it's not getting taken from me anytime soon! I'm not going to learn your stupid Force-tricks and become a blasted bloody Sith Lord like you!"

"Fifty points from Slytherin!" Vader retorted. "Sit down, Mr. Malfoy!"

"_Equinitus_!" Malfoy screamed, thrusting his wand at Vader.

A blast of orange light flared from the wand. Harry expected Vader to raise his hand to deflect it, but to his great surprise the Sith drew his lightsaber instead. The spell ricocheted off the glowing red blade and streaked toward Malfoy with terrifying accuracy, hitting him in the stomach. Brilliant yellow light enveloped Malfoy, then receded, leaving a shaggy-maned gray pony in place of a Slytherin prefect.

"Whoa!" gaped Ron.

"That is another method of deflecting spells," Vader told the class. "I find it allows me to more accurately redirect a blocked attack. It is, unfortunately, not a method open to wizards." The blade retracted, and he reattached it to his belt. "Mr. Malfoy, you will serve detention this evening immediately following dinner. Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle will escort you to the hospital wing."

Malfoy whinnied angrily as Crabbe and Goyle grabbed his mane and led him out the door.

"As for the rest of you, you may take the rest of the class period off. You are dismissed."

Harry stretched his legs and stood. "That was interesting."

"You mean weird," Ron replied as they strode toward the Quiddich field together. "Magic within us… did you actually feel anything, Harry?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh." Ron's face fell. "I spent twenty minutes focusing on a funny feeling in my stomach until I realized it was just indigestion."

"At least you're trying," Hermione told him. "Malfoy doesn't appear to care about it."

"He expects to be able to bribe his way out of any fight," Harry retorted. "Watching Quiddich practice today, Herm?"

"Why not?"

Practice was rather miserable, as the air was still very wet from last night's rain and the newest Chaser, a scrawny boy named Capulet, couldn't seem to control his broom. After he plowed into the muddy pitch for a fifth time, Angelina called it off.

"Same time tomorrow," she told everyone. "I want you to show up early, Ron. You need all the practice you can get, I'm sorry to say."

Ron groaned. "Maybe I'm not fit to be a Keeper."

"You did fine for your first time," Harry said encouragingly, slapping his shoulder.

Hermione jogged over to them. "Harry, get your cloak. It's urgent."

"What, another 'spew' mission?" asked Ron.

Hermione glared. "For your information, Ron, I overheard Professor McGonagall talking to Professor Flitwick about the Rebel Alliance."

"The what?" the two boys said at once.

"The Rebel Alliance," she repeated in a tone most people reserved for idiots. "They're the Galactic Empire's greatest enemy. And depending on who you talk to, they're either evil and must be destroyed, or they're trying to restore justice to the galaxy."

"What's this got to do with 'spew?'" asked Ron.

"Nothing!" she snapped. "Don't you two see the connection? The Ministry of Magic keeps in regular contact with the Empire. So Dumbledore must be trying to join forces with the Rebel Alliance in case the Ministry and the Empire ever unite against the Order of the Phoenix!"

"And how does this involve my cloak?" demanded Harry.

"I thought you were tired of not knowing what the Order was up to and why, Harry," replied Hermione. "This way we might be able to get some answers."

"I thought we prefects couldn't break the rules," Ron said.

Hermione only glared. "Meet me tonight at the statue of Caleb the Callow if you want to know what Dumbledore's doing contacting the Rebel Alliance, okay?" She swept away.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'll never understand how her mind works."

"She's got a point," Harry replied. "I mean, if Dumbledore wants to join the Rebellion, that's serious business. And if Vader finds out, the school could be in big trouble."

"This had better be good," moaned Ron.

-------

"Are you finished?" Vader demanded, jamming his hand back into his glove.

"With the palm reading, yes," Trelawney replied airily. "But I was hoping to squeeze in a reading of your tea leaves…"

"I don't drink tea," he said shortly.

"Very well then. I must say that was an exhilarating reading, Professor Vader. I've never seen a future so clouded and chaotic."

After being accosted by Trelawney after lunch, Vader had finally cracked down and submitted to a reading of his future. Three hours later, after staring into the crystal ball, plotting the position of the planets on the day of his birth, dealing out the tarot cards, and having his flesh-and-blood left hand minutely inspected, it was taking all his strength to resist the temptation to throttle the Divination professor. The sickly incense and heat of her tower would certainly either render him ill or put him to sleep if he was up here much longer.

"I really would have rather read your right palm," Trelawney went on. "It's mechanical, you say?"

"I must be going," he informed her. "Anything else?"

"Only to repeat my warning of a woman bringing trouble," she replied. "I saw it again in the crystal ball, you know."

"I'm sure you did," he retorted, turning to go.

"Don't take it lightly, my dear," she breathed. "The Inner Eye can be a terrible curse, but in many cases it has saved mortals much pain. Heed the warning of the Inner Eye."

"Yes, Trelawney." He opened the trapdoor and prepared to lower the ladder.

A deep, hoarse voice thundered through the room, and he whirled, his lightsaber clenched in one hand.

"_THE DARK LORDS HAVE UNITED_."

It was Trelawney speaking – but it was a Trelawney he'd never seen before. Her hands clutched the arms of her chair, her entire body was rock-hard and unbelievably tense, and her wide magnified eyes were unblinkingly staring.

"_AS THE TENTH MONTH IS BORN THE DARK LORDS UNITE IN THEIR CAUSE… AND THE CHOSEN ONE WILL FIND HIMSELF BETRAYED AND BETRAYER… THE EMPIRE WILL RISE AND THREATEN WHAT THE WIZARDS HOLD MOST DEAR… AND THE STAG AND THE DRAGON MUST JOIN FORCES ELSE BE SLAIN BY THE DARK LORDS… THE CHOSEN ONES MUST UNITE AS THE DARK LORDS HAVE OR ALL WILL BE LOST_…"

Her head lolled backward, then snapped back up.

"So sorry, must have dozed off," she said in her normal, ethereal-sounding voice. "Is there something wrong?"

He stared at her a moment, at a loss for words.

"No," he replied at last. "I thought I heard something, but I was mistaken. I'll see you at dinner."


	6. Of Robots, Rebels, and Reptiles

**Chapter 5 – Of Robots, Rebels, and Reptiles**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slunk quietly through the corridor toward an unused classroom, the silvery folds of Harry's Invisibility Cloak masking them. According to what Hermione had overheard, Dumbledore was to meet with a Rebel leader in this room. The plan was to sneak into the room and sit in a corner to watch the meeting. Failing that, they at least hoped to be able to listen through the door.

"I don't think this'll work," Ron whispered.

"Have some faith, Ron," Hermione replied, carefully drawing her wand. "_Alohalamora!"_

The door opened, and they slipped in, huddling in a corner. This classroom had been abandoned for a good many years, but it appeared to have last been used for a Runes class, judging from the strange markings on the walls. Cobwebs and dust shrouded every surface, and the faintly glistening remains of a broken Remembrall littered the floor. On a cracked blackboard a faint inscription could still be read – "Essays Due Friday – Those Failing To Turn It In Will Be Hexed."

"Cheery place," Harry noted.

Minutes later the door opened, and Dumbledore entered the room, leading a strange creature in.

"This is a private room," he assured his guest. "We won't be disturbed."

"Are you quite certain of that, Master Dumbledore?" the being replied in a clipped, refined voice that straddled a line between dignified and hysterical. This thing, whatever he was, was humanoid and definitely talked like a human, but he was encased in gold metal from head to foot excepting one silver leg. His eyes glowed amber in the semi-darkened classroom, and when he moved strange grinding and cranking noises could be heard.

_He's a robot!_ Harry thought, amazed.

"I'm very sure, Mr. Threepio," Dumbledore replied. "Ah, here's your friend."

Another robot, this one barrel-shaped with blue and white plating and about as tall as Professor Flitwick, trundled in on treaded feet, emitting beeps and whistles and turning his domed head from side to side.

"I'm very glad you came here on such short notice, Threepio and Artoo," Dumbledore told the robots.

"Master Luke says that you specifically requested to see Artoo," Threepio explained. "Though I'm not quite sure why…"

"Because an Imperial is currently residing in Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied. "And a robot will not attract his attention as much as a Rebel leader."

"Oh," Threepio said weakly.

Artoo beeped helpfully.

"He says that he is ready to set up the communication system," Threepio translated. "But Master Dumbledore, I thought our communications didn't work here…"

"Normally not," Dumbledore replied. "But I've been able to create a system where transmissions can be received through a Muggle transmitter – in this case, Artoo's transmitters – and redirected to the Floo network. Artoo, if you will…"

Artoo turned his head and opened a hatch on his dome, revealing a socket similar to the USB port on Uncle Vernon's fancy new computer. Dumbledore pulled a silver pipe from his pocket, tapped it a few times with his wand, and inserted it into the outlet. Then an antenna extended from the top of the little robot, rotating one and a half turns before settling on an acceptable position.

"Pardon me, sir, but how is this…" began Threepio.

"Just watch," Dumbledore said with a smile. With a wave of his wand a fire burst to life in the fireplace. He tossed in a pinch of dust, and the flames turned a brilliant purple. "Now would be a good time, Artoo."

He beeped in reply, and a bluish light issued from the tube in his side. It shone into the fire and revealed a three-foot-tall image of a stately woman in white, her brown hair tightly braided.

"Princess Leia, how good of you to join us," Dumbledore told her, giving a sweeping bow.

"Albus Dumbledore," Leia replied with a nod. "I understand you wish to negotiate an alliance with the Rebellion."

"That is true."

"I thought the wizard community made it clear that they wanted no part in affairs beyond their world," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"So says the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore replied. "And as you can see, I'm not the Ministry of Magic, am I?"

She almost smiled. "No, you aren't."

"Then will the Alliance consider allowing a select group of wizards to be admitted into its ranks?"

"It depends on just how select a group of wizards this is," she said warily.

Is he really going to tell her? wondered Harry.

Apparently so. "The Order of the Phoenix, founded almost twenty years ago by Yours Truly, now reorganized to combat the growing threat of Lord Voldemort."

Her eyes widened slightly. "I didn't think you were allowed to…"

"It's perfectly within the wizards' laws and bylaws, Princess, to speak any wizard's name, no matter who he is. Now, I cannot reveal the exact location of the Order's headquarters, but I can send you a list of those affiliated with our Order if you wish."

She turned and said something Harry didn't catch to someone out of sight. Then she turned back to Dumbledore and addressed him.

"We'll consider your offer. There are several Rebel cells on Earth, the closest to your location being in Spain. You may send your information regarding your Order there via… what do you call them… ells."

"Owls, Princess."

"Excuse me, via owls." She gave a slight bow. "The Alliance High Command will have to discuss this at length, but I don't see any reason why they wouldn't allow the Order of the Phoenix to become part of the Alliance."

"Very good. I'll see to it that your droids make it safely back to you. Good evening, your Highness."

"May the Force be with you." Her image faded out.

Artoo gave a whistle as Dumbledore extracted the tube from his side.

"Thank you for your services, Artoo and Threepio. I'll take you to your ship now."

"That would be most welcome, Master Dumbledore," Threepio replied, shuffling toward the door.

"After you," Dumbledore offered, gesturing toward the door. "And after you as well, Harry, Ron, Hermione. Please don't let me catch you wandering the halls again at this hour or I shall be forced to deliver consequences." He placed a long crooked finger to his lips. "Not a word of this leaves this room. And next time you decide to play spy, Mr. Weasley, try not to groan so loudly when your leg cramps up."

"Nice one, Ron," Hermione hissed as the three of them slunk out after the droids.

"Well, you try being quiet when it feels like someone put a Pins-and-Needles Hex on your legs," Ron grumbled.

"At least we know that Dumbledore's serious about this Rebellion business," Harry replied. "I just hope the Ministry doesn't find out."

"Or the Empire," Hermione added. "Especially Professor Vader. He can be very dangerous when he's angry."

"Talk of the devil," Ron breathed. "What's he doing in Trelawney's tower?"

Vader was descending the silver ladder that led to Professor Trelawney's classroom. The three of them pressed close to the wall and froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Vader began to pass them, then stopped, as if someone in the distance had called his name. He slowly turned to make eye contact with each of them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, you have forced me to deduct twenty points from Gryffindor," he told them. "Now go back to your dormitories."

"You can see through Invisibility Cloaks?" gaped Ron, throwing the cloak back.

"No," he replied, "but the cloak does not mask your presences in the Force. That I can detect easily enough."

"Professor Vader," Harry said, standing and letting the cloak slide to the floor. "I think we need to talk."

"About what?" Vader inquired.

"What do you think?" Harry demanded. "You've been watching my every move since the start of the school year! You've read my mind at least three times! You keep prying into my thoughts and demanding to know what makes me so special when there's nothing that makes me any different from… ouch!" He clapped a hand over his scar, which had begun tingling again.

"Harry!" squeaked Ron. "Your scar… that must mean…"

"You're affiliated with You-Know-Who, aren't you?" demanded Hermione, standing in front of Harry and drawing her wand. "That's why you're so obsessed with Harry! You've been sent by You-Know-Who to capture him!"

Her wand bucked in her hand, and it flew from her grasp to land in Vader's hand. "Another twenty points from Gryffindor for drawing on a teacher, Miss Granger. And for your information, neither I nor the Empire has any sort of alliance with Lord Voldemort. And furthermore, this talk about Mr. Potter's scar is ridiculous. How could I possibly be affecting it?"

"'Cause it only hurts when Voldemort's acting up," Harry replied. He pulled his hand from his forehead. "Actually, it's not hurting. More like… pins and needles."

Vader gave a slow nod. "Then it must be sensitive to any form of dark magic or the dark side of the Force. Which would explain your discomfort now."

"What, did you try reading my mind again?"

"No. Simply attempted to calm your mind and stop your hysterical ranting. But I can see that any Force action on my part will only aggravate you." He gestured down the corridor. "If you wish to speak with me, Mr. Potter, it must be in my office. Follow me. Weasley and Granger, I must ask you to go back to Gryffindor Tower. Take the cloak with you."

While Ron and Hermione reluctantly crept under the cloak and departed, Harry followed Vader down the corridor. He had to take two steps for each of Vader's strides in order to keep up.

"So why are you so obsessed with me?" he demanded.

"Because you cannot deny that you are apart from the rest of your kind," Vader replied. "I sense it. The rest of the wizard world has seen it. And the Emperor is most interested in that key difference."

Harry felt a leaden knot beginning to form in his gut. "He's interested in me?"

"Yes, Potter. He has written to me several times requesting information regarding you."

He couldn't believe this! Why did he have to be the one singled out for all this attention? It wasn't enough that he'd spent his entire life being a reluctant celebrity among wizardkind. Now the Empire wanted a piece of him as well!

"Why?" he asked. "I don't know any more than he does. I don't know why I have to be the one who supposedly defeated Voldemort all those years ago."

Vader was silent a moment. "Then that shall be a mystery we both have to unravel, Potter."

Footsteps rang through the corridor, and Vader gestured for Harry to hide himself. He complied, ducking behind a suit of armor as Snape rounded the corner.

"Good evening, Professor Vader," Snape greeted with a sneer. "Who are you talking to?"

"None of your concern, Snape," Vader replied shortly.

"Ah, I see." He gave a smirking grin. "If that's how it is, perhaps I should brew you a Silencing Potion to cure your incessant urge to talk to yourself."

Vader made an indignant sound before replying. "While you're at it, perhaps you can concoct a potion to shrink that overly large proboscis of yours."

_Ouch, that hurt_, Harry thought, though he didn't feel the least bit sorry for Snape.

"Watch your tongue, Vader," Snape snarled. "You never know when you might awaken to find it removed from your body and pickled in a jar."

"Is that a challenge?" Vader hissed, a hand going to his hip and gripping his lightsaber.

"Temper, temper," Snape chided. "If you really have such an urge to attack a fellow teacher…"

"Don't tempt me, Snape," Vader growled. "Step aside. I have work to do in my office."

"Ah, and now you're backing out of the fight," Snape sneered. "Just as I thought. You bluff and bluster and threaten, but at the slightest sign of an altercation you back down. How cowardly."

The suit of armor lurched, and Harry flattened himself against the wall in case it decided to run for it. But the armor instead hurtled toward Snape like some cast-iron torpedo. Snape fired a Banishing Charm that sent it flying over his body and landing with a crash on the floor behind him.

"_Stupefy_!" he shouted.

Vader's lightsaber hissed to life in a flash of scarlet, and the Stunner smashed into the corner of a painting, knocking it askew and sending the hippogriffs within it shrieking in outrage. More spells followed that first, which Vader blocked with both his weapon and the Force.

"Now what's all this?" demanded the Fat Friar, drifting down the hall with Nearly Headless Nick at his side. "Come now, gentlemen, we can't have this. We must set a good example for the students…"

"Good night!" exclaimed Nick as a curse sizzled through his transparent torso. "Something's really set Snape off this time!"

"Oooohh, a little rough-and-tumble!" giggled that lover of chaos Peeves, soaring down the corridor with a Filibuster Roman Candle in his hands. "Goody goody, what fun!"

"Go away!" Nick ordered. "This is bad enough without you stepping in!"

"What, and miss the fun?" he demanded, settling back in a reclining position and munching on the end of the Roman Candle, clearly enjoying himself.

A spell whizzed by Harry's cheek, so close the heat of it scorched the hairs on his cheek. He supposed he should be doing something to stop the fight, but what could he do? Besides, he didn't think Professor Vader could be bested that easily.

_Too bad Fred and George can't see th_is, he thought perversely.

Vader knocked aside one more curse, then thrust out his hand, palm out. Snape tumbled backward, landing with a clatter atop the fallen suit of armor. His wand skittered out of his hand and he strained to grab it again, but it shot toward Vader and landed in his outstretched hand.

There was a moment of deadly silence as the two of them regarded each other, Snape lying on his back and his face contorted in venomous hatred, Vader with his lightsaber pointed at the Potions Professor's chest. The ghosts watched, open-mouthed. Even Peeves was silent, still gnawing absently on the firework.

Then Vader deactivated the saber and extended the wand toward Snape.

"It appears that you have lost this duel, Snape," he intoned, obviously satisfied.

Snape got to his feet and grabbed his wand. "_Tortugallis_!"

"Vader, look out!" Harry cried.

Too late. The Dark Lord's body glowed a vivid green for a horrifying moment. When the glow faded there was no sign of him – save a black domed shape lying on the ground at Snape's feet.

For one moment Harry wondered if Vader had sunk into the floor. That black thing certainly looked like the top of his helmet. But then the dome sprouted legs and a scaly head, the last of which glared indignantly up at Snape with piercing blue eyes.

"Who were you saying lost the duel?" asked Snape gloatingly.

The tortoise lunged forward in an attempt to bite his foot, but he sidestepped easily, slid a toe beneath the creature's body, and flipped him onto his back. Clawed feet scrabbled futilely at the air as Snape paced around his victim, a triumphant sneer on his face.

"I must say I like you better in this form," he mused. "Now what to do with you… perhaps the house elves would like to make turtle soup as a change in the students' diets. But no, there's not enough meat on you. Maybe I'll just take you back to my classroom. There are plenty of potions that require ground tortoiseshell…"

Harry burst from his hiding place. "_Accio Tortoise_!"

The reptile flew into his hands, and he hurriedly wrapped his arms around him. The gloating look on Snape's face faded in a hurry.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

He didn't waste time giving him an answer, just ran down the hall.

"Go for it, Harry!" cheered Nick.

"Drop that animal, Potter!" screamed Snape.

"_Snivellus Snape, he thinks he's so grandy_," Peeves sang. "_Transfiguring teachers – he thinks its just dandy…"_

"Shut up!" Snape bellowed. "Potter, get back here!"

Harry kept running, the tortoise banging painfully into his breastbone with each jolting step he took. His lungs screamed for air, and a stitch was beginning to form in his side. Snape's angry voice, now swearing and threatening to curse him, served as a goad to keep him going.

"Potter, what on earth…" Miss McGonagall's voice had never sounded so welcome. She strode quickly down the hall, the books she had been carrying now floating behind her.

He skidded to a halt and extended the tortoise toward her. "They were fighting… Snape and Vader… and Vader beat him… but he was giving Snape's wand back and Snape…"

"Say no more," she interrupted wearily, taking the transfigured Vader from him. "We've been expecting this for weeks."

Snape caught up with Harry at that moment, still brandishing his wand, a feral snarl on his face. When he saw McGonagall, though, his expression became slimily smooth.

"Professor McGonagall," he said in an oily voice. "I see Potter has had the audacity to feed you some ridiculous story about how Vader assumed his current form."

"And you have a less ridiculous story explaining just how he got this way?" she inquired.

"Certainly. I came upon the two of them having some sort of argument, ending with Vader assigning Potter a detention. Potter retaliated by hexing him, a terrible breach of school rules that I feel will be best punished by suspension at the very least…"

The tortoise fixed Snape with a hateful gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with fury.

"Really," McGonagall mused. "That's a very interesting story, especially since Potter is averaging 'Acceptable' in my Transfiguration class. If he can suddenly transform an adult wizard into a tortoise, he must have made miraculous progress in the last few hours."

Harry grinned. McGonagall had just shot Snape down! Even if it meant admitting to Snape that his progress in her class was less than satisfactory.

"I suggest we have a chat, Snape," she informed him crisply. She handed Vader back to Harry. "Take him to the hospital wing, Potter, and then go straight to bed. I don't know what you were doing up at this hour, but I for one am glad you were."

"Yes, Professor." He tucked the tortoise under one arm and headed for the hospital wing.

_That slimeball of a man_, Vader grumbled – not verbally, of course, but inserting the words into Harry's mind. His scar prickled slightly, but not so much that he couldn't ignore it.

_Why'd you give him back his wand anyhow?_ asked Harry. _He wouldn't have been able to change you if you'd just snapped it in half or thrown it to Peeves or something._

_Peeves is dangerous enough without a wand_, Vader retorted. _Besides, I mistakenly believed that Snape has some trace of honor in that greasy body of his. It is considered extremely low to attack an opponent after losing a duel_.

_He's Head of Slytherin. Slytherins aren't exactly known for honor_.

_True._ A pause. _I suppose I should thank you for saving my life_.

_I don't think he'd really turn you into a potion or turtle soup. That would cost him his job – not to mention a sentence in Azkab_an.

_You know as well as I do, Potter, that the man is dangerous. Destroying me would not be below him, I'm sure. I hope this incident has alerted Dumbledore to Snape's danger at last._

_Maybe he'll be sacked, Harry thought with a grin._

_We can only hope._

"What's this?" demanded Madam Pomfrey as Harry walked into the hospital wing. "Another stormtrooper? Why won't you children leave the poor men alone?" She reached out to take Vader from him.

"Actually, ma'am, it's Professor Vader."

She shrieked, almost dropping the tortoise. "Who did… how could anyone…"

"He was being honorable," Harry replied. And Snape was being a snake, he wanted to add, but he judged it best to keep that comment to himself.

"Whoever did this should be ashamed of themselves!" she snapped, taking Vader away. "Go back to your dormitory, Potter, I can handle this. You're in for a rough night, Professor…"

Vader caught Harry's eye before Pomfrey carried him away. _Eighty points for Gryffindor._

_Thanks,_ he beamed, then turned to go.

---------

Voldemort stared into the fire at the image of the Emperor hovering there. "Yes, I know Potter is adept at Quiddich. That's certainly nothing new. If that's the best information Vader has sent you, then I take back ever suggesting we keep him around…"

"There's more, my friend," Palpatine replied with a smug grin. "According to my correspondence with my former apprentice, Potter's House team, Gryffindor, is scheduled to play against Slytherin this coming weekend. And during this time he'll be some distance from his friends and teachers – in other words, relatively unprotected. We have a chance to capture him."

Voldemort nodded. "Brilliant. And how appropriate. The heir of Slytherin triumphing over Potter from Gryffindor at that clash between the Houses."

"I knew you'd approve," the Emperor said with a chuckle. "And I have just the man for the job."

A figure of an armored man appeared in the flames beside Palpatine.

"This is the bounty hunter Boba Fett," he introduced. "For a substantial price, he has agreed to bring Potter to us. I assure you, he is the best at his job. All he requires from you is the ability to find Hogwarts."

"Send him here," Voldemort ordered. "I'll have Wormtail ready a Clarity draught. It should let any Muggle, Fett included, see Hogwarts."

"He shall be there by tomorrow," Palpatine replied.

Voldemort snickered as the two men vanished from the fireplace. All was going according to plan.


	7. The Most Dangerous Game

**Chapter 6 – The Most Dangerous Game**

_I'm going to kill Snape._

That became Vader's mantra throughout the night and next morning as his body painfully shifted from animal form back to human form. Dumbledore could preach all he wanted about Snape and Vader laying down their wands and establishing a relationship, but Snape had eliminated any hope of such a cease-fire existing. War had been declared, and war Vader would wage with the low-life. Snape would pay for the indignity Vader had suffered.

He spent that long and miserable night in a cot in the hospital wing, enduring periodic transfusions of some potion to restore him to his proper form. On one side of his bed lay a bored Hufflepuff second year suffering from some skin complaint that made her look like she was covered in furry green mold, who entertained herself by blasting flies on the ceiling with her wand. On his other side, a stormtrooper read a copy of the Daily Prophet, his leg propped up in a cast from a mishap with one of the castle's trick staircases. The three of them had maintained an unofficial vow of silence the entire night, though they did seem to sympathize with each other's respective plights.

It wasn't until nearly seven in the morning that Madam Pomfrey declared Vader good as new. "Though you'll still be a little sluggish for a few days until your internal chemistry settles down," she informed him. "You can go anytime… oh, and Dumbledore would like to talk to you before you leave."

He rolled his eyes. What did he want to discuss now?

"Hi, Headmaster," the Hufflepuff girl said brightly as Dumbledore walked in.

"Good morning, Miss Applebee," Dumbledore replied. "Clearing up at all this morning?"

"No," she grumbled. "Malfoy hexed me, Headmaster, and all because he's a prefect and my mother's a Muggle…"

"Malfoy has been dealt with," Dumbledore replied. "Madam Pomfrey, why don't you take this young lady to the courtyard? No one will see her there, and the fresh air will do her no harm."

Pomfrey helped Applebee out of bed and escorted her out.

"Now Vader," Dumbledore went on, taking a seat beside Vader. "I'd hoped to talk to you about last night."

"Last night is entirely Snape's fault," Vader informed him. "He provoked the duel and maliciously attacked me when the duel was over…"

"I'm aware of the details of the duel," Dumbledore replied. "Sir Nicholas and Harry Potter were both very helpful on that front." He shook his head. "I did warn you, Vader, that Snape was a man not to be crossed."

Vader gave a snarl of rage. "Snape turned me into a tortoise, and it's MY fault for crossing him?"

"If Harry's testimony is to be believed – and I believe he has no reason to lie – you attacked Snape first."

"Only because he goaded me into…"

"You are an adult, Professor Vader," Dumbedore interrupted. "Thus, I expect you to take responsibility for your own actions. I understand that you find that concept difficult, but if you are to maintain your post here, I suggest you try a little harder."

He fumed silently. This wasn't his fault! If Snape had not provoked the duel…

_Everything's someone else's fault, isn't it?_ a small voice in the back of his head cut in. _It's Obi-wan's fault you became a Sith, it's the Jedi's fault your mother died… can you not take responsibility for anything in your life?_

He thrust those thoughts violently out of his mind.

"But I did not come here merely to discuss your battle with Snape," Dumbledore continued. "Though it did cost me a fifty-Galleon bet… the Astronomy Professor maintains that since Snape got in the last shot, he was the true winner… but that's beside the point. What I also came here to discuss is your loyalties."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You told me at one point that you were loyal only to the Empire," Dumbledore replied. "But you also told me that you would do all you could to ensure that the Ministry of Magic would not perpetuate their cover-up of Voldemort's return. Unfortunately, I believe that very soon – within months at the most – your allegiances will no longer be compatible. You will be forced to choose between the two."

Vader stared at Dumbledore incredulously. Where in the galaxy did the Headmaster get this idea? The Empire had nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic. How could they possibly be abetting their conspiracy regarding Voldemort?

"I suppose you wonder what I'm talking about," Dumbledore said as if reading his mind. He raised his wand and pointed it at the stormtrooper, who was now dozing with the Daily Prophet draped over his chest like a tent. "Accio Newspaper."

The paper fluttered like an oversized moth into Dumbledore's hands, and he folded it neatly so the front page was visible and handed it to Vader. "It's made the front pages, I'm afraid."

The headline alone was enough to stun Vader:

**GALACTIC EMPIRE PROPOSES TREATY OF ALLIANCE WITH MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

_In a surprise political move this past Wednesday, representatives of the Galactic Empire proposed an alliance of power with the magical community._

_"We're very excited about ushering in this next great stage of the wizarding world's progress," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge told the Prophet. "This treaty can only benefit wizards and witches all over the world – not to mention the people of the Empire."_

_Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn and Imperial Grand Moff Argon, the representatives that visited the Minister of Magic, were also optimistic regarding the potential alliance._

_"Our societies have mistrusted each other for years," Thrawn said. "By allying and taking on a common cause in defending ourselves from those who would destroy our societies – whether from within or from without – perhaps we can make amends for those years of restrained hostilities."_

_"Perhaps it is time our worlds came to accept each other," Argon added. "Perhaps it is time the Empire came to accept magic, just as the wizards are overdue in accepting technology."_

_The treaty negotiations are scheduled to begin October 30th. It is not known how long they will continue before an agreement is reached, though local Seers predict it will take approximately twenty-six years for any sort of compromise to be made._

_"To be perfectly realistic, we expect a decision to be made within the year," a confident Imperial leader who asked to remain anonymous told the Prophet._

_Emperor Palpatine, the reclusive leader of the Galactic Empire, and Lord Darth Vader, his imposing second-in-command, could not be reached for comment._

Ha. They hadn't even tried to reach him for comment. Then again, if they had, they would have received their comment in the form of a dead reporter. He read on.

_It is not known why the Empire, formerly aloof from the magical community, has chosen to propose a merger of power with the Ministry, though some officials suspect the recent hiring of Lord Darth Vader as a teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may have been a sign of the Empire's growing interest in the wizarding world. The recruitment, which stirred nationwide controversy at first, may have only been a first step in warming relations between the two communities._

_"As a concerned parent, I'm still not very enthusiastic about having a Dark Lord of the Sith instructing my child and being responsible for his welfare," Lucius Malfoy told the Prophet. "But as a concerned member of the wizarding community, I can see many benefits of the wizards joining the Empire – the opportunity to visit other worlds, more employment offers, access to better medical and educational facilities."_

_"Lord Vader has been a great success at Hogwarts, despite some shaky first impressions," Care of Magical Creatures Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank said. "Not familiar with his teaching style, but it seems to be working well."_

_The proposal has not been embraced by the entire wizarding community. Ministry employees Nymphadora Tonks and Arthur Weasley, among a handful of others, have filed letters of protest with the Ministry at the news._

_"It's absolutely disgraceful," Weasley told reporters last Wednesday. "The Empire is a dictatorship. It'll be a dark day when any wizard throws his lot in with a dictatorship." (To read about Weasley's suspected ties to Muggle terrorist cells, see page 16A.)_

Beneath the headline was a photo of the plump, rather dim-looking Minister of Magic, grinning broadly from beneath the brim of his bowler hat, his arms draped around the shoulders of the two Imperial representatives. Thrawn wore a small confident smile on his sapphire features, ruby eyes gleaming eagerly. Argon's flabby pale face was expressionless, but then, Argon had never been one to exhibit any emotion besides boredom.

"Perhaps now you see what I mean," Dumbledore said quietly.

Vader shook his head. "Something isn't right. I should have heard something about this. A treaty of alliance is a serious matter."

"I suspect the Emperor didn't want you to discover this," Dumbledore replied.

"What do you mean?" Vader demanded. "I am a Dark Lord of the Sith, second only to the Emperor, Palpatine's right-hand-man and most trusted confidant. Why would he keep this from me?!"

Dumbledore gave a sad smile, as if he sympathized with his plight but chose to do nothing about it. "I have no desire to put myself in your Emperor's shoes and try to think like him – it would no doubt scare me out of my wits – but I have a theory… and no more than that… that the Emperor sent you away for a year because he was planning something that didn't require your scrutiny."

Vader couldn't accept that. "I would not have protested such a treaty…"

"Vader, you are a man of honor," Dumbledore cut in. "A man of honor is rare indeed, and rarer still in the Empire. Could it be that your Emperor does not share this sense of honor, and that he wanted you out of the way so your sense of honor would not interfere with his plan?"

Grabbing the Prophet in both hands, Vader tore the paper in half. "Enough with your conspiracy theories, Dumbledore! I am a man loyal to the Empire! And that is not bound to change anytime soon, treaty or no!"

Dumbledore sighed and stood. "Very well. Though I pray you will reconsider your words." He held out his hand. "Miss Hermione Granger informs me that you still have possession of her wand. May I?"

He unclipped the wand from his belt and returned it. "Now leave me. I've had enough with your suspicions and presumptions for today."

"Oh, there's one more thing," Dumbledore said suddenly, and he dropped a book on the bedside table. The title was printed in gold and read _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"Reading material. I suggest you study up, Professor Vader. You're refereeing over the Quidditch match this coming Saturday."

-------

"Ready, Ron?" asked Harry, pulling on his Quidditch gloves.

"No," Ron replied. His face was as pale as this morning's porridge, with his freckles standing out against his skin like currants.

"Get ready, then," Angelina informed him crisply. "Now listen up, Gryffindors, we'll have to play fast and hard to beat Slytherin today. Professor Vader's refereeing – that's one advantage we have, since he dislikes Slytherin. The ground'll still be pretty hard from last night's frost, so try not to crash or fall off. Grass'll be slick, so watch your takeoffs. Oh, and Slytherin just replaced their Beaters, so Fred, George, keep a sharp eye out to figure out their tactics."

"It's Crabbe and Goyle," Fred replied with a huge smile. "We know their style – take a swing, miss the Bludger, and fall off the broom."

"Won't hurt them too badly if they only land on their heads," George added.

"Glad you're taking this seriously," Angelina replied, rolling her eyes. "And Ron, please don't fly away from the Quaffle! It won't bite you, I swear! Guard the goalposts if you have to block the Quaffle with your head!"

"He's not that bad, Angelina," Harry protested.

"Gryffindor!" barked Vader, striding toward them, a Nimbus 2001 in one hand. "Are you ready yet?"

"Ready," replied Angelina.

"Then get out on the pitch!" he ordered.

"Bossy, isn't he?" muttered Alicia Spinnet.

"He's a military leader, he's used to people jumping at his orders," Harry replied.

"Doesn't seem very happy about being referee," noted Ron.

"Ah, he'll have a good time," Fred assured him.

"Anything to whack points off Slytherin," George added.

The Slytherin team stood in a row on the pitch, awaiting the arrival of their opponents. The new team captain, Montague, reminded Harry painfully of Dudley. Crabbe and Goyle stood just beside him, glaring dully at the Gryffindor team. Mafloy smirked at Harry and Ron, giving an evil wink.

"Mount your brooms," Vader commanded, following suit by climbing astride his Nimbus 2001. Harry had expected him to be clumsy with the broom, but he seemed perfectly at ease aboard it.

"Take positions!" shouted Angelina, just as Vader kicked the trunk containing the balls open and went airborne. The Quaffle shot straight up, the Bludgers spiraled away eagerly, and the Snitch vanished in a blur of gold.

"And they're off!" shouted Lee Jordan, the game announcer. "There goes Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor captain and Chaser, isn't she grand? She's got the Quaffle and is going… Montague steals it… Bludger to the chest and he loses it to Katie Bell… Katie passes to Spinnet, Spinnet goes for the goal…"

Harry circled the edges of the pitch, keeping an eye out for any flicker of gold that could mean the Snitch. On the other end of the field, Malfoy did the same. Vader hovered ominously to the side like a dark bird of prey, watching the action. Harry wondered how familiar he was with the game and whether or not he appreciated the sport.

"Back in Slytherin's possession… nice Beater work by the Weasleys! Angelina's got the Quaffle and is going for the goal… you dirty rat you! Pucey has the ball – that was a definite foul, Pucey!"

"Jordan, if you cannot commentate in an unbiased fashion…" McGonagall snapped.

There was a shout from Vader's direction, and he made a time-out gesture with his hands like an American football referee. "Penalty shot for Gryffindor for unprovoked attack on a Chaser!" he announced.

Gryffindors cheered, and Luna Lovegood's ridiculous lion-shaped hat – she had modeled it for Harry at breakfast that morning – gave an approving bellow.

"Spinnet takes the Quaffle… score one for Gryffindor! Montague has the ball and is going down the pitch… passes to Pucey… passes back to Montague… Gryffindor Keeper moves to block… score for Slytherin! Teams are tied ten-ten, and the crowd's going wild…"

Ron had frozen in midair as the ball had gone for him, and it had whizzed past his shoulder and into the scoring hoop.

"Ron Weasley, move a few inches next time!" cried Angelina.

"Sorry," he mumbled, flushing red.

Malfoy sneered from nearby. "What's the matter, Weasel? Aw, you afwaid of de ball?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry ordered.

"Who made you Royal Highness?" Malfoy retorted.

"Malfoy, look for the Snitch, you idiot!" Montague bellowed. "Don't waste time gabbing!"

Harry started at that moment – Montague was heading right for Ron, Quaffle in hand! Ron seemed to petrify at that moment, too terrified to twitch, let alone block.

"Poor Wonny Weasley's too afwaid of de ball," said Malfoy in a mocking, babyish voice. "His poor fat mommy's gonna cwy when her widdle baby misses de Quaffle again…"

The Quaffle's impact in Malfoy's sneering face cut off the rest of his insult. Ron, his arms still raised from catching and throwing the ball, looked positively stunned at what he'd done.

"Great save from Weasely!" cried Jordan. "But it doesn't look like Vader's too happy with it, he's called a time out…"

Vader brought his Nimbus to a halt nearby, glowering at the three boys. "Mr. Weasley, explain your actions."

"He's a prat!" Ron snarled. "He deserved it!"

"Malfoy provoked it," Harry said in Ron's defense. "He was making ugly remarks, and Ron… well…"

"I didn't do anything!" Malfoy growled, rubbing his soon-to-be-black eye.

"I see," Vader replied, clearly amused. He raised his voice. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for deliberate distraction of their Keeper! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Seeker!"

Katie landed the shot neatly, but Montague was so angry he missed Slytherin's shot. Gryffindor was back in possession of the Quaffle.

"There goes Bell, off down the field… close call with that Bludger… Weasley's hit it back at Goyle, but Goyle's hit it back at Weasley… what is this, tennis?"

For Goyle and Fred were now smacking the Bludger back and forth between them, Fred with a huge grin as he was clearly enjoying himself, Goyle with an expression that made him look like an infuriated gorilla. It did indeed look like a tennis match played on brooms.

"Break it up, Fred!" Angelina shouted. "Go help George!"

"Busy," Fred called back sweetly, casually batting the Bludger back at Goyle.

"Goyle, this is no time for games!" Montague screeched.

"I'll get him if it's the last thing I do!" Goyle growled, smashing the Bludger back at Fred.

Vader swooped over at that moment. "Enough of this," he ordered. "If you have issues with one another, settle them off the pitch!"

Fred slammed the Bludger back at Goyle, who batted it savagely at Vader with an infuriated cry.

Vader's hands came up, and he caught the Bludger in midair with no apparent damage or discomfort. Fred and Goyle gaped.

"Did you see that?!" screamed Jordan. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! Ladies and gentleman, that was a spectacular move by our referee! If only England could recruit him for the World Cup…"

Vader released the Bludger, letting it zip away in the general direction of the Slytherin goalposts. "I'm pulling Goyle from the game!" he announced.

"You can't do that!" Montague protested.

"I most assuredly can," Vader retorted. "And Goyle, kindly put your wand back in its pocket, or I'll be forced to issue a detention as well. You will land your broom and retire to the bench for the remainder of the game."

Goyle spat a long list of obscenities as he drifted toward the pitch, stomping sulkily toward the dressing rooms with his broom in tow.

"Slytherin's down a Beater now… Pucey takes the Quaffle… Bludger to the nose! Ouch! Bell's got the Quaffle, going for the goal… nice save by Johnson, just barely missed Montague… what in the world is THAT?"

"That" was an object that arced toward the pitch from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, an object far too big to be a Bludger, an object that seemed to trail fire as it streaked forward…

An object heading right for Harry.

Only the fact that he was riding a Firebolt, the fastest broom ever designed, saved Harry from being clobbered, and even then he could just feel the thing brush his robes as it tore past. He brought himself around to get a good look at his attacker.

It was a man! Sheathed in battered metal armor like an exceptionally dingy stormtrooper, he wore a helmet reminiscent of an ancient Trojan soldier's, only without the feathered crest. What he'd taken for trailing flames was actually the glowing exhaust of a jet pack. The man spun to face Harry and leveled a sawed-off blaster rifle at him.

"_Protego_!" he cried, aiming his wand at the intruder.

The blast ricocheted off an invisible shield and struck the pitch, shooting chunks of turf in the air. The crowd was no longer cheering on the players but was instead gawking and screaming in horror.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a definite first!" Jordan went on, still in announcer mode. "Never had someone crash a Quidditch game before… let's see if Potter can take him on…"

"Shut up, Lee!" someone in the audience screamed.

The man continued to fire at Harry, who had to renew the Shield Charm with every blast he took.

"_Protego! Protego! Protego!"_ He wasn't sure how long his voice could stand up.

A blur of black streaked toward the duelists, and Harry's attacker found himself staring blankly at the inoperable, smoking stump of his weapon. Vader made a tight turn and streaked forward again, saber at the ready.

"Harry, head for cover!" Vader ordered. "I'll handle Boba Fett!"

"Who's Boba Fett?" Harry demanded.

"No time for that! Go!"

The rest of the Quidditch players buzzed madly about the field, not sure whether to come to Harry's defense, flee, or keep playing the game. Only Fred and George seemed to have taken a definite course of action – they were herding a Bludger in the direction of Boba Fett, and with a furious combined blow they sent it streaking toward the attacker.

But the man was too quick for them. He rolled in midair, the Bludger missed him by inches…

There was an awful THWAK, and metallic fragments filled the air.

"Professor!" Harry forgot all about protecting himself.

Vader was gripping his right arm, which had gone limp and was bent horribly out of shape. From rents in his leather armor wires and jagged metal protruded, as if that arm had belonged to a robot. The Nimbus 2001 rocked unsteadily and spiraled toward the ground, Vader struggling to control the broom one-handed.

Something flitted past Harry at that moment, and he unconsciously grabbed at it. The Snitch! The ball must have gotten disoriented in the chaos. He stuffed it into his robes to deal with at a later time. Right now the game was the last thing on everyone's mind.

"Harry, look out!" screamed Ron.

A finger-thin cord, seemingly made of metal, wrapped around Harry from shoulders to waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Fett blasted away, evidently hoping to yank Harry from his broom. He gripped the Firebolt tightly with his legs and tried to steer it in the opposite direction, but he only ended up in a bizarre tug-of-war match with Fett as each struggled to drag the other away.

Other teachers were mounting brooms now, and the Quidditch pitch was now swarming with wizards and witches. McGonagall aimed a wand at the taut cord and fired a blast of purple light that severed the cord. Fett went spinning in one direction, Harry shot in the other direction. He shrugged off the cord and delved into his pocket for his wand.

It was gone.

"Looking for something?" taunted Malfoy.

Terror and rage both roiled within Harry as the Slytherin Seeker proudly displayed Harry's wand. He must have dropped it when Fett tied him up!

"Give that back!" Harry shouted. "He'll kill me!"

"The mighty Potter can't take on a common Muggle?" sneered Malfoy.

Teachers were forming a protective ring around the Quidditch players now, wands at the ready. Vader soared upward to join them, steering one-handed, his other arm dangling limply to one side. Fett circled the wizards warily, like a prowling tiger.

"Give my wand back, Malfoy," Harry demanded.

"What's the matter, Potter? Scared of a flying Muggle?"

"This isn't a joke, Malfoy!"

"Watch out!" screamed Montague.

Snape's broom careened madly to the pitch. The Potions professor crashed into the frosty grass and lay there motionless. Before the other teachers could move in to close the gap, Fett charged through, intent on Harry. Malfoy, realizing he was in the line of fire, dove for the pitch.

_One does not require a charm, hex, jinx, curse, or even a wand to use magic,_ Harry recalled. _The Jedi and Sith are able to draw on the Force without the aid of a wand._

But he was no Jedi or Sith! How could he fend off Fett without his wand?

He lurched out of the way, but Fett grabbed his robes. He jerked free with a loud rip, leaving a good chunk of his robes in the man's hands. Sprout and Flitwick attempted a joint attack, but Fett kicked Sprout's broom awry, sending it spiraling toward the stands, while Flitwick's broom streaked away with a flaming brush end.

_Stay calm_, Harry told himself. _Think of a way out of this…_

A great wave of peace washed over him at that moment. The chaos of the pitch – screaming students, careening brooms, the Bludgers still rocketing about and attacking people indiscriminately – faded out of his perception. His only focus was Fett. Unconsciously he reached out toward him, into his mind…

_Stop_, he ordered. _Stop where you are_.

Fett halted in midair, shaking his head as if puzzled.

Vader attacked at that moment. He leaped from his broom and tackled Fett in midair. Both men fell in a tangle to the ground.

Now it was Harry's turn to shake his head. What had he just done? The only thing he could figure was that he'd just put the Imperious Curse on Fett. But how could he have done that without his wand?

Everyone was landing now, both players and teachers. The Gryffindor team was pumping spells into the fallen Fett with great enthusiasm, and only Dumbledore's intervention stopped their attacks.

"That's enough," he ordered. "He's no more danger now."

Vader staggered to his feet, clamping his left hand over his right shoulder, as if his arm would fall off if he wasn't holding it in place. Dumbledore whispered something Harry couldn't catch, and Vader murmured a reply.

"That was so scary," Ron murmured.

"You all right, Harry?" asked Angelina.

"I think so," he replied.

"Who put the Jelly-Legs Curse on him?" asked George, pointing at Fett.

"That would be me," Katie Bell replied.

"Hmmm," Fred mused, regarding the fallen man with a smile. "I used the Giggle Charm – doesn't look like the two are supposed to mix… looks like he's gone slightly mad…"

Students clustered around Fett's prone form, gaping. No one had ever seen anything like this man – an armored, flying Muggle! This was certainly something they'd all be writing home about.

"Everyone back away," Dumbledore ordered. "We're taking this man to the hospital wing. Vader, you'd better head that way yourself."

Vader gave an obedient nod and walked away, still clutching his damaged arm.

McGonagall strode by, Snape lying on a floating stretcher and trailing after her. The students stared after their least favorite professor with a sort of guilty pleasure – few of them liked him, but at the same time they felt guilty wishing harm upon him.

"Professor Snape has been hit with a drugged dart," Dumbledore told everyone. "He'll awaken soon with no ill effects."

"Pity," grumbled Fred.

"Hah, hah, hah, hah… Dad, can I fly the ship this time?" murmured Fett in a dreamy sort of voice, chuckling uncontrollably all the while.

"Come with me, sir," Dumbledore told him gently, hauling him up by one arm. The man's legs refused to hold him up and folded up like rubber beneath him. Madam Hooch grabbed his other arm and helped the Headmaster drag him away.

"Yes, I'll take more gravy… heh, heh," Fett mumbled, head lolling to one side. "Heh, heh, heh… watch out, TIE fighters off starboard side…"

"I guess a rematch is in order," said Angelina, watching the three men depart to the hospital wing.

"Don't think so," Harry replied, pulling the Snitch out of his robes.

"And Gryffindor's won!" Lee shouted. "One-hundred seventy to ten!"

But the victory was the farthest thing from Harry's mind at the moment. Who exactly was that man? Why was he after him? Was he a Death Eater or otherwise working for Voldemort?

He decided to go visit Vader in the hospital wing that night. He'd recognized the man. Perhaps he could explain just who this man was and why he was here.


	8. Double Trouble

**Chapter 7 – Double Trouble**

The Weasley twins were quite put out that Harry wasn't planning on attending the party they were holding in Gryffindor Tower's common room in his honor.

"It's going to be the greatest yet!" Fred insisted, shooting some red-and-gold streamers from his wand onto the ceiling. "We've nicked a load of food from the kitchens, and there's a Star Wars fan in Ravenclaw that's donated some Boba Fett posters for us to use… Dean Thomas' making some adjustments to them…"

"I'll catch the end of it," Harry promised. "But I'm going to visit Vader in the hospital wing. He probably saved my life, you know."

"Here, we put together a nice get-well-soon fruit basket for him," George said, patting the arrangement. "For looks only, of course, the grapes have Engorgement Charms in them, and the apple's got a doozy of a Bat-Bogey Hex…"

"Deliver it yourself," Hermione told the twins sternly. "If you're going to be breaking school rules, at least have the tact to not drag other students into your escapades."

"Yes, ma'am!" they replied in unison, saluting.

"Oooohhh!" crooned Lavender, awed, as Dean fixed a poster to the portrait portal. It had once been a stationary poster of Boba Fett in flight, but now it depicted a grinning Harry circling the hapless Muggle, firing spells at him with merry abandon. It was an amusing, if inaccurate, portrait.

"Be back before nine," Hermione warned. "Filch is in a bad mood tonight. Apparently someone gave a candy box to the stormtroopers without warning them that it was a Weasley Skivving Snackbox, and he had to clean up the hallway where they got sick."

Fred and George glanced up at the ceiling and whistled innocently.

"Save some treacle tarts for me," Harry requested, turning to leave. The Harry on the portal poster had just transformed Fett into a tatty-looking crow.

Once out of sight of Gryffindor's Fat Lady, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and covered himself. He did intend to visit Vader tonight, but he hoped to do it without anyone else seeing him. If Pomfrey or Dumbledore caught him asking questions about Fett, he didn't think they'd be very amused.

In the hallway just outside the hospital wing he spotted a stormtrooper leaning against the wall, panting with exhaustion. Harry wondered what was wrong with him until the man pushed himself to his feet and sort of bunny-hopped forward, his legs stuck tightly together. Apparently someone had placed a Leg-Locking Curse on him. Edging closer, Harry lightly tapped the back of one armored shin and whispered the countercurse.

The stormtrooper, who had been tensing for another leap forward, sprang and landed on his face. He stared a moment at his legs as if expecting them to vanish or detach from his hips, then got to his feet and walked back toward Vader's office, muttering all the while.

Someone had left the hospital wing's door open, and Harry ducked through just as Madam Pomfrey rushed over to close it.

"There now, we're quite private here," he heard Dumbledore say calmly. "We can talk a bit more freely, Minister."

Harry started. What was Fudge doing here?

Professor Vader, Cornelius Fudge, and Headmaster Dumbledore stood near the medicine cabinet, evidently deep in discussion. Fudge had an odd gloating expression on his face. Dumbledore looked grave, and Vader… Harry couldn't read his expression, of course, but he seemed to exude anger and indignation. The sleeve of his armor was still gashed open, but at least his arm seemed to be properly mended.

"What the stang is a dementor?" Vader demanded. "And why does the Minister want one brought into Hogwarts?"

"They're guards of the wizard's prison," Fudge explained. "Just want one on hand while we question this hunter… no telling what the man may have up his sleeve, Muggle or no…"

"A dementor is a creature that thrives on emotion," Dumbledore added coldly. "They feed off of the excitement and happiness that living things project, and they in turn cause all creatures in their vicinity to feel only fear and despair. And I do NOT approve of bringing one into the school."

Harry wanted to shout his agreement but kept silent.

"Now come, Dumbledore, you don't want me to face this hunter unprotected, do you?" Fudge demanded, still gloating.

"Vader has volunteered the services of his stormtroopers," Dumbledore replied. "They should be more than enough to protect you, especially since we have stripped Boba Fett of any objects that could possibly be of threat to you."

"Still, a dementor will keep him subdued enough to make him willing to talk…" Fudge pressed.

"The Empire will interrogate him," Vader interjected. "And our methods will be enough, I assure you."

"Oh, the Ministry will handle this," Fudge grinned. "After all, he attempted an attack on wizards, not on Imperials. This plainly falls under our jurisdiction."

"He is a citizen of the Galactic Empire," Vader retorted. "He is our responsibility."

Fudge's grin widened. "Now I see exactly where Mr. Thrawn was coming from. Here we are, fighting over who has the right to question an Imperial criminal captured on wizard ground, wasting valuable time! Won't it be a happy day when our governments have merged and we can solve these matters jointly?"

"A happy day for the Empire, I daresay," Dumbledore replied. "But a dark day for wizards."

"Oh-ho," chortled Fudge, "so it's not the dead You-Know-Who that we must watch out for now! It's the generous and open-armed Empire!"

"The Empire has never been either generous or open-armed with its own people," Dumbledore countered. "Why should it treat the wizards any differently?"

"Now listen here, Dumbledore," Fudge said, an edge of anger creeping into his voice. "You've taken this entire crusade of yours way too far. Not only do you insist that You-Know-Who has somehow risen from the dead, but now you declare the Empire to be our greatest enemies!"

"You only know what the Empire has told you, Fudge," Dumbledore countered. "You have not stopped to investigate their true nature. Do you honestly believe that a totalitarian government that declares martial law at the slightest hint of unrest is an ally to the wizarding world?"

"Oh come now, they're nothing like that!" Fudge protested. "Tell him, Lord Vader! You're an Imperial! Let him know just what the Empire's like!"

"Yes, Vader," Dumbledore replied, leveling an even gaze upon the professor. "Let us know."

Vader looked from Fudge to Dumbledore, bewildered at being put on the spot. He seemed torn between the two sides of the issue – evidently wanting to defend the Empire but not having any evidence to contradict Dumbledore's accusation.

The intensity of the moment was shattered by an enormous man flinging the hospital-wing door open and tromping in, nearly stumbling over Harry's crouched body in the process. Harry's heart leaped. Hagrid was back! Looking rather worse for the wear, but his presence cheered Harry immensely.

"Hallo, Headmaster!" Hagrid boomed, grinning cheerily through the bruises on his face. "Good ter see y' 'gain…" His gaze rested on Vader, and his voice trailed off. "Who the ruddy 'ell are you?"

"I was about to ask you the same," Vader replied, looking Hagrid up and down critically – mostly up. Harry got the impression that Vader was entirely unused to having to crane his neck to look at anyone. Then again, Harry doubted Vader had ever met a half-giant.

"Vader, this is Rubeus Hagrid, our groundskeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures," Dumbledore introduced. "Hagrid, this is Professor Darth Vader, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Right dodgy-lookin' fellow y' got there, Dumbledore," Hagrid muttered, but he reached forward and took Vader's hand anyhow, giving him a handshake that nearly snapped his arm out of its socket again. "Welcome t' 'Ogwarts, Professor. Hope yer likin' our school."

"Galloping gargoyles!" exclaimed Fudge. "I thought for sure you'd sacked the brute! Don't tell me he's still employed here!"

"He is still very much employed here, Minister," Dumbledore replied. "He was merely taking an extended vacation."

"Doesn't look like much of a vacation," Fudge, sniffed, taking in Hagrid's torn, filthy moleskin coat and his bruised features with a disgusted look.

"He spent his vacation at the dragon reserve in Romania," Dumbledore countered. "Volunteer service, you see."

"Ah… well… that's quite… fitting… considering his background…" Fudge muttered.

Pomfrey bustled forward. "Headmaster, the Muggle's awake now. I think the madness and Giggle Charm have finally worn off. It'll be awhile before he's walking, though."

"No rush for that, my dear," Dumbledore told her. "Give him a calming draught. Someone will be in to talk to him in a moment."

"A Muggle in 'Ogwarts?" asked Hagrid. "What's goin' on?"

"We'll explain later," Dumbledore told him. "Why don't you report to my office, and we'll talk about your trip? Minister, I'll be seeing you in the morning – and please reconsider bringing a dementor into the school? I'd hate to have an incident similar to last year's."

Fudge glowered. "It will be the Ministry's decision whether or not to let anything into this school, Dumbledore." He stomped out, nearly treading on Harry's foot on the way.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Vader inquired, "do you honestly believe Voldemort is behind this?"

"I do, Vader," Dumbledore replied. "And I fear for Fett's safety should the Minister bring a dementor into Hogwarts. Dementors were some of Voldemort's most loyal supporters… and they are not above destroying other followers that have been captured by the enemy or turned their allegiances. That is how we lost a key witness to Voldemort's return last year."

"Will you have me question Fett?"

"If you wish. I'll secure a bottle of Veritaserum for your use."

Vader nodded and swept out of the hospital wing.

_Follow me, Potter._

Harry slipped after Vader, being careful to not step on the Invisibility Cloak or on the professor's cape.

_Who was that man, Professor?_

_Boba Fett,_ Vader replied, not breaking his stride. _He's a bounty hunter. Your Headmaster is convinced that Lord Voldemort has hired him to capture and destroy you, though it will take an interrogation to be sure._

_Oh. What'll you do with him once you've questioned him?_

_Minister Fudge wishes to contain him in Azkaban. Dumbledore wants the Empire to take custody of him. I favor destroying the man. We will decide what to do after the interrogation._

They reached Gryffindor Tower, but the Fat Lady had evidently gone to visit another painting. Harry had a seat and awaited her return.

_So what's the deal with the Ministry and the Empire joining forces?_ he asked.

_I take it you haven't been reading the Daily Prophet._

_Hermione does, but I quit at the start of term. I'm not going to keep reading a paper that trashes my name whenever it can._

_Earlier this week a merger of power was announced on the front page of the Prophet. Apparently the Empire wishes to reconcile its differences with the wizard's world and join forces with your world. I was never told any of this, however, which is rather puzzling._

_Why wouldn't you know? You're the Emperor's right-hand-man, right?_

_Yes. But your Headmaster is convinced that the Emperor never informed me because he is attempting to sever ties._

_That doesn't make sense._

_I agree wholeheartedly_.

"Who's there?" asked the Fat Lady, reappearing in the frame holding a tankard of butterbeer. "Professor Vader?"

_Go to bed, Potter. We'll speak more at a later date_. Aloud he gave the password: "Cat's cradle."

"Very well." The painting shifted aside, and Harry slipped through.

"No," Vader replied. "I've changed my mind."

"Suit yourself." The door shut.

Harry slid the cloak off and tucked it into his robes. So the Empire was allying with the Ministry of Magic. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe he'd talk to Hermione later and find out.

"Hey mate, you're back!" Ron exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "You missed it, Fred and George just showed off some of their new fireworks, they're great!"

"But one of the Catherine Wheels just went out on the grounds," Dean added. "I don't think Dumbledore's going to be amused, is he?"

"Oh crikey!" George exclaimed. "That reminds me! Fred, we've got detention to serve with the Headmaster tonight!"

"Again?" Ron asked. "Didn't you serve detention this morning?"

Harry spotted Hermione near the fire, and he moved over to sit next to her. She had her nose buried deep in, not the usual textbook or history tome, but a book titled The Star Wars Encyclopedia.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I borrowed this from that fan in Ravenclaw," she replied. "If I've got a Sith Lord as my Dark Arts professor, I want to know as much about him as possible."

"Good. We can look at it together. I need to know a few things too."

"Like what?"

He related everything he'd overheard between Vader, Dumbledore, and Fudge, including the arrival of Hagrid. Hermione looked positively furious when he mentioned the proposed alliance.

"There it is!" she snapped. "Proof the Ministry's desperate to shut Dumbledore up!"

"What proof?" asked Ron, who'd been trying to read over Hermione's shoulder.

"Oh, don't you get it? The Galactic Empire is one of the worst dictatorships ever created! They hold absolute dominion over their people. Anyone who says anything the Emperor doesn't like can legally be imprisoned or killed." She flipped the book open to a picture of some monstrous robots shaped like long-legged turtles that were laying waste to a city. "And if it's an entire city that doesn't agree with the Empire…"

"I get the point," Harry replied, feeling slightly sick.

"So if the Ministry can convince the Empire that Dumbledore's a danger, they can have an excuse to arrest him and instate their own Headmaster!"

"Blimey," breathed Ron. "Think Vader's in on this?"

"No," Harry replied. "He's pretty surprised that the Emperor's agreeing to this without talking to him first."

"That's also very strange," Hermione replied. "Vader is Emperor Palpatine's most loyal servant. I don't see why he wouldn't know anything."

"Why's he working for the Emperor anyhow?" demanded Ron. "He's always been pretty good to us here at Hogwarts. He doesn't strike me as the type to work for a dictator."

"It's a very long story," Hermione told them, turning to a page showing a portrait of their Dark Arts professor. "But I'm not going to read it to you, so read over my shoulders."

Harry and Ron craned their necks to get a good look at the book.

---------

Vader strode into the hospital wing, passing three students afflicted with fevers – no doubt unsuspecting "guinea pigs" for the Weasley twins' Skivving Snackboxes – before coming to stand at the foot of Fett's bed. The man had been stripped of his armor and clothed in a white nightrobe, leaving his dark-featured, scarred face bare to the world for the first time in decades. The only sign that this was the feared hunter of legend was the Mandalorian tattoo over his exposed right collarbone. A Leg-Binding Curse prevented him from getting out of bed, but all the same stormtroopers stood at either side of the bed and guarded the door of the hospital wing.

"Lord Vader," he grated. "And here I thought the Emperor had killed you."

"My whereabouts are none of your concern, Fett," Vader replied. "I have questions for you, and you will answer them for me promptly or suffer the consequences."

Fett laughed derisively. "Unless you're prepared to pay well, my friend, you'll receive no information from me."

"So be it." Vader gestured, and two stormtroopers moved forward with a deactivated interrogation droid.

Fett showed no emotion. Vader figured he was no stranger to pain. But it wouldn't make much difference; the droid was just for show. Dumbledore, who detested the use of torture to acquire information, had instructed Vader to use an alternate method.

"Professor Vader!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed before the troopers could activate the machine. "I will NOT have you intimidating my patients!" She set a tray upon the bedside table. "I'll prepare a drink for you now, Mr. Fett."

"I pass."

"I insist," she retorted. "You need fluids in you to recuperate. Will it be coffee, tea, milk, pumpkin juice, hot chocolate…" Each corresponding drink appeared on the tray as she spoke their names.

"Fine," snarled Fett. "Caf. Strong. No sugar."

One final cup appeared, and she turned her back on Fett as she made a show of adding milk to the product. Vader watched, intrigued. He'd never seen Veritaserum in use before. This should be an interesting experience.

"Here you are, Fett," she said at last.

Fett didn't take the cup. "You drink from it first."

"Oh, honestly!" She took a sip. "There, no poisons or drugs. Take it already!"

Fett drained the glass to the dregs. A slightly glazed look came over his eyes, though his expression was unchanged.

"Now then," Vader said firmly, boosting his words with the Force, "who hired you to come to Hogwarts and why?"

"Emperor Palpatine," Fett replied in a dull voice. Even his iron will couldn't stand up to the double assault of a wizard's potion and a Sith's power of suggestion.

"I received the message when I was finishing up business on Malastare," he went on. "The Emperor needed a hunter willing to chance a trip to Earth – specifically, the wizarding world. When I arrived, he told me that he wanted a wizard student named Harry Potter, preferably alive. He was willing to offer one million credits for a completed mission. I accepted."

Vader nodded, unsurprised. If you were going to hire the best, you had to be willing to pay the price. "Do you know why he wanted Harry Potter?"

"He had an alliance with some wizard or other," Fett mumbled. "Wanted Harry for some purpose or other, he never said. I never met this wizard in person, but from what I gathered, the Emperor considered this man an equal. Acquiring Harry was supposed to be the next step in this wizard's plan to secure his dominion over the wizard world."

This wasn't what Vader had wanted to hear.

"I saw the wizard's face once, in a magic fire the Emperor was using to communicate with the man – if you could call him a man. He had red eyes and a face like a snake's. His name was Voldemort."

That was DEFINITLEY what Vader did not wish to hear.

"I reported to a deserted manor in England to meet with an associate of Voldemort's, one Peter Pettigrew, code-named Wormtail. He gave me the location of Hogwarts as well as a potion to enable me to see the school. I hid for a few days in the Forbidden Forest while waiting for the Quidditch match, fighting off centaurs and thestrals from time to time. When the game was going full force, I struck. Harry should have been easy to capture. I did not count on Lord Vader coming to his defense."

Vader nodded sharply and gestured for his men to leave the room. "Thank you for your services, Fett. Pomfrey, give him a sleeping potion."

"Yes, Professor." She hurried to the medicine cabinet.

Vader left the hospital wing in a fog of bewilderment. The Emperor was in an alliance with both the Ministry of Magic and Lord Voldemort! This couldn't be correct! Vader should have had some notification of any partnership with the wizard's world. But for there to be not one, but two such alliances without his knowledge – and with groups that were mortal foes, to boot – was unthinkable!

Was the Emperor seeking to play both sides of the issue? Did he hope to pit the Ministry against Voldemort? For what purpose? And why had he elected to leave his right-hand man completely in the dark? Was he not worthy of knowing? Or did he think that Vader's loyalty was being strained by his association with Dumbledore?

Peeves hovered in front of his office door, busily loosening an iron candelabra.

"Oooohh, it's Professor Vader, the Animagus who can turn into a tortoise!" he chortled.

"Go away, Peeves," he snapped, in no mood to deal with the poltergeist.

He cackled madly and spun circles around the candelabra, loudly belting out the Imperial anthem and adding his own filthy lyrics.

Vader drew the wand from his belt. He disliked using this tool, even if it did allow him to use the Force in unusual ways. But tonight, he felt a particular spell was just what Peeves needed.

"_Scourgify!"_

Peeves spluttered in mid-stanza, pink soap bubbles floating out of his mouth. "Not fair!" he burbled through a mouthful of suds.

"If you think it's unfair, you're welcome to leave," Vader ordered. "Otherwise, there's more where that came from."

He somersaulted away, muttering and leaving a trail of bubbles.

Vader stormed into his office, jerked a parchment out of his desk, and began to write an angry letter to his master.

_There has been evidence that the Empire is preparing an alliance with the Ministry of Magic. Also, a source that shall remain anonymous has informed me that you have dealt business with Lord Voldemort, including the attempted capture of Harry Potter. I would like to know why I was never informed of either of these facts. Simply because I am on leave does not exempt me from the right to know what is going on in the Empire._

_Your servant,_

_Lord Darth Vader_

He rolled the letter into a scroll and pushed away from his desk so abruptly he spilled ink all over the desktop. Not bothering to clean up the mess, he stalked out of his office, through the halls, and up into the castle's Owlery.

A tiny owl circled his head eagerly, screeching for attention. He irritably swatted the creature away and motioned for one of the school's barn owls. It landed on his arm and assumed a dignified pose, one leg extended.

"This goes to the Imperial Outpost in Scotland," he informed the bird, tying the scroll to its leg. "Make no stops and fly as fast as your wings permit. This is of utmost urgency."

The owl hooted obediently and launched itself from his arm, soaring into the night.

--------

Albus Dumbledore knelt at the bounty hunter's bedside and quietly murmured the countercurse to the Leg-Binding Curse.

"Are you quite sure of what you're doing?" asked Professor McGonagall from nearby.

"This is the best way, Minerva," he replied. "I'd rather have this man as an ally than see him kissed by a dementor… and lose yet another witness." He placed his wand to Fett's temple. "_Ennerviate_."

Fett's jet-black eyes opened, blinking and squinting. "Who's there?"

"Relax, Mr. Fett. I am Albus Dumbledore, and I'm here to make a deal with you."

Fett glowered at him. "Why would you want to make a deal with a Muggle?"

"Because I am not one who is particularly fussy about bloodlines, Mr. Fett," Dumbledore replied. "Many wizards dislike half-blooded wizards or Muggles in general, but such bigotry is ridiculous, in my opinion." He extended a hand. "Will you take an assignment from a wizard?"

"I'm in the middle of an assignment now," Fett growled. "I don't quit any assignment."

"Yes, Professor Vader made it clear to me that you had taken a mission from the Emperor and Lord Voldemort. But are you aware that, in abetting the Emperor's cause, you could bring about the destruction of not only the wizarding world but the entire galaxy?"

Fett gave him a look that clearly said "I don't give a damn so long as I see cold hard cash for my work."

"I can see I can't appeal to your sense of honor," Dumbledore noted. "But perhaps if I offered to top the Emperor's price – and paid a portion of it in advance – you would be willing to reconsider your allegiances?"

That caught the man's interest. "How much?"

"I can pay you five hundred thousand Galleons," Dumbledore told him, holding up a heavy pouch. "One hundred thousand in advance. I believe the advance alone is worth… oh, I'd say half a million credits."

Fett nodded. "What's the job?"

"Protect Harry Potter. Come to my office once a week for a booster dose of the Clarity draught, so you don't lose the ability to watch over Hogwarts. Keep an eye on him while he's outside – during Care of Magical Creatures class, on his way to Hogsmeade or the greenhouses, during Quidditch practice or games… whenever he's away from the castle. During the Christmas holiday you'll receive a second hundred thousand Galleons, and the remaining three hundred thousand will be given to you at the end of the school term."

"Deal," Fett replied, taking the Headmaster's hand and shaking it firmly.

"Very good. Oh, and this is yours." With a wave of his wand a heavy trunk appeared and landed heavily next to the bed, its lid popping open to reveal Fett's armor and weaponry. "Get dressed quickly."

Fred and George Weasley stepped forward. "Hello, Headmaster!" Fred said brightly.

"Good evening, boys," Dumbledore greeted cheerfully. "Ready to begin tonight's detention?"

"Ready, Headmaster," George said with a wide grin.

"Very good. Now listen closely, both of you. Fett will need escorting out of the castle. No one can see him leave, so use caution. One of you will have to lead Fett out through the secret passageway – the one that goes through the old crone's hump and into Honeyduke's will be the best, I believe – and the other will need to stage a diversion for Filch and the stormtroopers. Oh, and if anyone spots you, you have my permission to Stun them so long as you do no permanent damage."

"Yes sir!" they said in unison, saluting.

Fett slid his helmet on. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"You're most welcome, Fett, and safe journey."

"I do hope you know what you're doing, Albus," McGonagall worried as the twins led Fett away.


	9. Legend of the Chosen One

**Chapter 8 – Legend of the Chosen One**

_The black-haired boy staggered back, the ruby-hilted sword clumsy in his hands. His vibrant green eyes reflected terror, not surprising considering the enormous snake that weaved drunkenly toward him, its eye sockets bleeding as if gouged out. At the bidding of a ghostly-pale wraith of a boy that watched the action from the sidelines, the serpent lunged, and the first boy lifted his sword…_

Luke opened his eyes. Another of these visions – why did they never cease? Why couldn't he just be left in peace during his meditations?

"Luke, you okay?" asked Wedge, looking up from an astromech he was reprogramming.

"Probably another one of those magic dreams he's been having," joked a mechanic from nearby.

"Shut up, Grad," Wedge snapped.

"Don't worry, I'm used to it by now," Luke told Wedge.

Of late he'd become a sort of running joke among the Alliance. For the past few months he'd been experiencing odd flashbacks of memory… but never his own memories. And the images he witnessed were always incredibly fantastic – and always of the same black-haired, green-eyed, scar-faced boy. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with a bushy-haired girl or redheaded boy, and sometimes a snow-white bird or a silver horned animal accompanied him. And always he seemed to be facing down some hideous beast or other danger – the aforementioned snake, a giant spider, a dragon, but most frequently that reptilian-visaged sorcerer with black robes and haunting red eyes.

Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of reporting these visions to High Command – and the Alliance had a field day with them.

Luke sighed, then pulled out a datapad and started typing. Even if no one else thought the visions were of worth, at least he could keep a record of them.

"Luke?"

He glanced up. "Hey, Leia. How's Han doing?"

"Much better," she replied. "If Chewie would stop smothering him, of course."

He laughed. Just yesterday they had come back from Tatooine, having finally destroyed Jabba the Hutt and rescued Han from his clutches. Han had been taken straight to the med center for treatment of his hibernation sickness, but Luke was sure he'd make a full recovery.

"Mothma wants a word with you," Leia told him.

"Okay. Be right there." He turned off the datapad. "Anything wrong?"

"Not that I know of. When I left, High Command discussing the rumors that Boba Fett was working for the Emperor."

"That might explain why there wasn't any sign of him at Jabba's palace."

"Possibly. But I doubt they want to discuss Boba Fett with you."

He groaned. "Don't tell me Mothma thinks I've lost my mind."

"I can't say, Luke."

Mothma herself met them at her office door.

"Come inside, Skywalker. Organa, you may go."

Luke entered the sparse office and sat down. "Something wrong, ma'am?"

She sat down behind her desk, folding her hands before her. "You told us some time ago that you had been having visions… possibly sparked by the Force."

He knew it. "Yes, I did."

She nodded. "Have these continued since then?"

He hesitated. If he confessed that the visions had indeed continued, would she deem him unstable and pull him from active duty? But he didn't want to give Mothma any indication that he was untrustworthy, especially considering…

"Yes. In fact, one just came to me before you sent for me."

"Really?" One eyebrow lifted inquiringly. "And what exactly do these visions deal with?"

_What the stang,_ he thought resignedly. _I've told her this much, might as well tell her the rest._ "I've kept a record of them," he told her, handing her the datapad. "They all depict a boy, possibly an Earth wizard."

She leaned forward a bit. "What does he look like?"

"Um… he's about fifteen years old. Messy black hair, green eyes, old-fashioned corrective lenses, robes…"

"And a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt down his forehead?" Mothma asked.

Luke felt his mouth drop open. "How did you know?"

She activated a holoprojector. On her desk materialized an image of the boy that had haunted his thoughts for the past four months.

"What the stang?" he gaped.

"The boy you have been seeing is known as Harry Potter," she explained. "He's a celebrity of sorts in the wizarding world. He attends the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whose Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, has recently contacted the Alliance and wishes for a select group of wizards to join us."

"His entire school?"

"No. An underground organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. He further states that the Ministry of Magic is seeking an alliance of power with the Empire – and that he has evidence that Emperor Palpatine is working hand-in-hand with Lord Voldemort, one of the most powerful and evil wizards on Earth, though for what purpose he does not know."

"Since when has the Empire cared about Earth?"

"Since four months ago, when Dumbledore hired Darth Vader to work at Hogwarts as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"He WHAT!"

"Hired Vader to work in his school. Apparently the Emperor has temporarily dismissed Vader from his service, and he elected to apply for work at the school. From what I understand, Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he hadn't been the only applicant for the job."

He shook his head, stunned. What a tangled web had been woven! Darth Vader, who was quite possibly his father, working at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, head of Hogwarts, seeking to join the Alliance while the rest of wizardkind cast their lot in with the Empire, and the Emperor himself working with an infamous dark wizard…

"Dumbledore fears for the safety of this Potter boy," Mothma explained. "For reasons he cannot divulge, Potter's services are invaluable for overthrowing Voldemort. And if the magical government succeeds in merging with the Empire, his life will be in untold danger." She deactivated the holo. "You have been having visions of Potter, Skywalker. Thus, I have decided to assign you the task of meeting with Dumbledore at the All Hallows Eve festivities at Hogwarts to discuss Potter's safety at the school."

"Um… if Vader's at the school…"

"Dumbledore has assured me that he can keep a firm watch over Vader's actions," Mothma replied. "I have his assurances that you will be in no danger."

He relaxed a touch. "Then I'll do it."

"Thank you. Dumbledore will be expecting you a week from today. You are dismissed."

-

Harry awakened to the sound of voices in the hallway just outside the Gryffindor common room – angry voices, and one sounded suspiciously like Cornelius Fudge.

He, Ron, and Hermione had fallen asleep in front of the fire, the Star Wars book still open on Hermione's lap. His face lay across a picture of a TIE fighter, his cheek sticking to the paper, and he peeled it away before standing and carefully opening the portal a crack.

"…I know you had something to do with this, Dumbledore! Tell us – where is the Muggle?"

"I've told you before," he heard Dumbledore say lightly. "I left Mr. Fett in the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey. She gave him a calming draught and went to tend to a stormtrooper who'd developed an unusual blue rash on his nether regions. When she came back, he was gone."

"The Muggle had a Leg-Locking Curse on him!" Fudge screamed. "Do you mean to tell me that a man without a breath of magic in him threw off a curse and made it out of this castle without anyone seeing him?"

"Oh, that's always possible," Dumbledore replied. "There are too many secret passages in Hogwarts to count, you know. And as even I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about the Muggles of the Empire, it's very possible they harbor some measure of immunity against our spells."

Some unintelligible little growls and squeaks issued from Fudge's mouth before he spoke again. "I'll find where you've hidden the Muggle, Dumbledore, if I have to bring in Azkaban guards to search Hogwarts from dungeons to towers!"

"After being attacked by wizard students, I doubt Fett will have any desire to remain in this castle, Fudge," Dumbledore replied calmly, the threat of dementors not fazing him in the least. "You'll only be wasting your time and needlessly endangering my students."

He didn't catch the rest of their conversation, as they'd already walked out of earshot. Carefully he slipped out into the hallway, wincing as his bare feet touched the icy stone floor. Fett was loose? And Fudge wanted to search the school for him? Just what had gone on last night?

"Potter."

"AUGH!" he yelped, whirling, wand at the ready. "Oh, Professor Vader. You scared me."

Vader nodded understandingly. "With Boba Fett at large, you'd naturally be on edge."

Harry gazed at Vader a long time, conflicting emotions warring within him. Last night he and his friends had read a great deal about Vader – how he had once been a Jedi, how he had fallen to the dark side and become a Sith, and how his children were set on fighting a war against him, not knowing he was their father. He felt angry that Vader could be so stupid as to help the wicked Emperor further his plans to dominate the galaxy, yet he also pitied the man and wished he could do something to help him.

"Professor, can we talk?"

"Certainly. Follow me to my office."

The office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher always changed radically to suit its occupant's whimsy. When Lockhart had taken the post, the interior had been plastered with photographs, posters, and paintings of himself, all beaming and posing and flashing too-perfect smiles at anyone who entered. With Lupin, the office more often than not contained some caged creature, such as a kappa or a boggart, to be used in an object lesson next class period. Moody – or at least his imposter – had "decorated" the place with Dark Detectors to keep up the appearance of a paranoid ex-Auror. Vader, it seemed, had taken the minimalist route – apart from his desk, a single wooden chair, and some sort of miniature computer, there were no furnishings or other paraphernalia of any kind.

"What did you wish to discuss?" Vader inquired, taking a seat behind his desk.

"I was wondering – did you find out who sent Fett to Hogwarts?" he asked, sitting in the chair.

"I had the opportunity to question Fett before his escape," Vader replied. "He claims that both the Emperor and Lord Voldemort hired him."

Harry's stomach lurched. "Both of them? They're working together?"

"So says Fett," Vader replied. "I have contacted the Emperor regarding the report's accuracy, and I expect a reply soon. I had no knowledge of any such alliance, let me assure you."

_Sure, like he'd really tell you if he was working with Voldemort,_ Harry thought.

A soot-stained barn owl swooped down the chimney, scorching its tail feathers on the still-glowing coals of the fire. It landed with an irritated screech on Vader's desk and dropped a slightly blackened letter on the desk.

"Is that from the Emperor?" asked Harry.

"From the Imperial Base in Scotland," Vader replied, smoothing the singed parchment out. "They have been handling my correspondences with the Emperor."

Harry bent forward to read the letter. Vader made no move to stop him.

_Lord Vader,_

_Regarding your accusation that I have some sort of partnership with the self-styled Lord Voldemort, let me assure you that nothing of the sort is true. The only alliance being negotiated is that with the Ministry of Magic. Anything else is a baseless rumor concocted to undermine my credibility in the eyes of wizardkind._

_It would seem that you have been swayed by the delusions of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. My understanding is that the man is unstable and will soon be removed from his post. Furthermore, his unbalanced state of mind could very well affect his ability to protect Hogwarts in the event of an attack by the Rebellion. And once the negotiations between the Ministry and the Empire have been completed, Hogwarts WILL be a prime target for the Rebellion._

_Consider your true allegiances, my apprentice, and decide for yourself who is telling the truth and who is simply seeking to delude you. Keep your eyes open and report anything suspicious to me._

_Emperor Palpatine_

"I don't believe him," Harry stated bluntly.

"It's always difficult to ascertain how much of what the Emperor says is truth," Vader replied, folding the parchment carefully to avoid crumbling its burnt edges. "But that will be for me to decide, Potter. If you are finished asking questions, you may go."

"But I'm not finished asking questions," Harry replied. "Why are you serving him anyway? Isn't he evil? From what I hear, he's worse than Voldemort, and that's saying something. So why do you bash Voldemort but insist on doing what the Emperor says?"

"Potter, you're rambling again…" Vader began.

"And he hasn't done you any favors, has he? He made you destroy the Jedi Order, he's forcing you to either corrupt or kill your son, he's ordering you around like some lapdog or servant…"

Vader's hand gripped his arm painfully. "How do you know all this?" he hissed.

Harry winced, and not just because his arm felt like it was caught in a vise. He'd just said too much! Hermione had made it clear to him that the Empire had no clue that the Muggle world even knew of their existence, much less almost the complete life story of Darth Vader and his progeny.

"Everyone knows… leastways all the Muggles do and those who pay attention… ow! Leggo my arm!"

"This isn't possible," Vader snarled. "We've had no contact of any sort with Muggles."

"Seer…" Harry replied, face screwed up in pain as Vader's angry grip tightened on his arm. "Seer named Lucas… made some movies about you…"

Vader released his arm, staring at Harry as if shocked. "Lucas… told the Muggle world…" He stood and strode over to the office's only window, staring out across the grounds, hands clasped behind his back. Harry rubbed his arm and scooted his chair away from the professor, having no desire to set him off again.

"Go back to Gryffindor tower, Potter," Vader said at last. "Do not mention what you have learned to anyone. Do you understand me?"

"Professor, why do you serve the Emperor?" he demanded. "I have to know. You have a place here. You don't have to go back to him once your year at Hogwarts is up."

"You don't know the power of the dark side, Potter," Vader replied so quietly Harry could barely hear him. "I must obey my master."

Harry waited a little longer, but Vader said nothing else. He stepped outside and walked back to the tower, thinking about what Vader had said.

-

The story had been in the Jedi Archives for so long that no one could decide for sure if it was fact or fiction. In fact, the only reason it had remained in the records at all was because it concerned the wizarding world as well as the Jedi Order. Some Jedi had dismissed it entirely, while others had taken the other extreme and studied it at great length. At any rate, the story had lived on, even when the Jedi Archives were looted and erased by the Empire.

Vader didn't move from the window for a long time. Potter's mention of Lucas only served to breathe new life into the once-dead tale. He'd been trying for years to forget the story that had been repeated endlessly in his presence. Now, however, it would bear rediscovery.

_The Chosen One,_ he thought bitterly. _They all honestly believed I was the Chosen One. Because some fool wizard named Lucas had the rotten luck to give prophecy in the presence of the Jedi Council concerning one who would bring balance to the Force, I was hailed as a demigod and expected to be the perfect Jedi, to never sway from the Codes and to be the model Padawan for my wretched ill-lucked Master. If it hadn't been for that blasted Lucas, it never would have come to this._

But Potter had spoken about Lucas as if he were a contemporary character, not some figure of history. Vader presumed the man Potter referred to was a descendent who had inherited the clairvoyant gift. That would explain his intimate knowledge of Vader's life. He ground his teeth in fury. So this younger Lucas would follow in his many-times-great-grandfather's footsteps and proceed to ruin his life yet again!

He strained to keep his anger toward Harry in check. He couldn't hate the boy. He'd only been regurgitating facts. And his remark about his service to the Emperor stung so badly only because it had been true. He was indeed little more than an indentured servant to the dictator – and he continued to attend to the man's whimsy only because he knew of no other possible course.

_You have a place here._ Could he really continue serving Dumbledore? The man did seem given to bizarre theories, but he didn't seem to be the delusional man the Emperor claimed him to be.

He returned to his desk and picked up the Emperor's message. A second, smaller scrap of parchment fell out of the envelope, and he picked it up and scanned it.

_A final note,_

_Intelligence reports indicate a Rebel representative is being sent to Hogwarts at the end of this month. Find a means of recording this conversation and send the details to me as soon as possible._

_Do not fail me again._

_Emperor Palpatine._

-

The Honeyduke's Candy Shop in the village of Hogsmead was silent and darkened, its owners still snoring away in their apartment upstairs. Brightly polished marble counters and glass jars of sweets gleamed in the morning light that trickled in through the windows. Display cases sat empty, awaiting the morning shift, where they would be filled with sweetmeats and delicacies of every variety. Even though the shop had been scrubbed top to bottom last night, the aroma of buttery toffee and melted chocolate could still be detected.

From the back room of the shop emerged Fred, George, and Boba Fett, brushing dust from their clothes. The secret passage had led them directly to this establishment's basement.

"Not bad, eh?" Fred asked with a grin. "Crate of Filibuster Fireworks distracted the stormtroopers quite nicely. And we only had to hex Filch and five students to make it to the passage, that's got to be a record."

"S'long as no one figures out where Filch got his wings from," George replied. "Then again, Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions."

"This is where we part company, boys," Fett told them, striding out from behind the counter and going for the door. "Though I want to thank you for your services."

"No problem, have a Chocolate Frog before you go," Fred replied, plucking the candy from an open box and tossing it to Fett.

"Fred, really, you're not stealing!" George said with mock horror.

"We don't steal from customers, brother-of-mine," Fred replied, pointing to a box with three golden Ws gracing the side. "Honeyduke's paid well to carry Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Canary Creams and Skivving Snackboxes, remember?" He opened the cash register with a flick of his wand and dropped a handful of Sickles inside.

"Well, s'long as you're paying," George replied, and he tossed Fett a box of Jelly Slugs, a slab of toffee, and three bags of Everyflavor Beans, then scooped up some fudge for Fred and himself. "Cheers, my good fellow."

"May the Force be with you," Fett told them, and he exited the shop as quietly as possible.

Fred and George watched him go, each chewing thoughtfully on bricks of fudge.

"Nice fellow," Fred mused.

"Great fashion sense," George added.

"And good of you to warn him about the shape-changing properties of the toffee."

"I didn't. I thought you did."

"Ah, he'll figure it out soon enough on his own."

"Wonder if we'll ever see him again."

"Bet your bottom Galleon we will, brother."

"Let's go before the owners wake up."

"Capital idea."


	10. Choices and Paths

**Chapter 9 – Choices and Paths**

It seemed Hogwarts was going to pull out all the stops for this year's Halloween feast. Lit jack-o-lanterns hovered over the tables, their candles flickering eerily. Other carved pumpkins, each as large as the school's carriages, were arranged along the walls, illuminated by large lanterns. Live bats swooped over the tables, eliciting the occasional shriek or blast from a wand. Vast orange and black streamers seemed to hang suspended by nothing, and the enchanted ceiling depicted a clear, velvety-blue sky set with a golden moon and a dusting of stars. Dumbledore had even hired a troupe of skeletons for the night's entertainment, and these were now setting up their performance area next to the staff table.

"Dumbledore hired these skeletons a few years back," Fred told them. "Too bad you three missed them."

"We were at Sir Nicholas' Deathday party that year," Hermione explained.

"I notice he hasn't invited us since," Ron remarked, piling his plate high with black pudding.

"He probably stopped holding them after the Headless Hunt crashed the party and made fun of the fact that he wasn't entirely headless," Harry replied.

A particularly large bat dove for a fruit platter, making off with a cluster of grapes. Dean fired at it but missed.

"Mr. Thomas, there will be no attacking the bats!" McGonagall informed him crisply, striding by at that moment to take her place at the table.

"What're we supposed to do to keep 'em out of our plates?" Dean demanded.

"I highly doubt you'll starve to death if a bat makes off with your supper tonight, Mr. Thomas," she replied.

Dean rolled his eyes once she was out of earshot. "She's in a mood tonight."

"Wonder why," Harry mumbled, shoveling treacle tart into his mouth. "And I wonder why Dumbledore's late. He never misses a Halloween feast."

Another wand-shot crackled through the air, and a group of Ravenclaws squealed in disgust as a Stunned bat landed with a splat in the middle of a soup tureen.

"Detention, Mr. Montague!" McGonagall snapped, altering her course to march toward the Slytherin. "There'll be no feast for you tonight!"

"S'long as she takes her mood out on the Slytherins, I don't mind," Ginny said with a grin. She pointed up at the staff table. "And hey, Professor Vader's dressed for the occasion."

"He's always dressed for Halloween," Fred teased, spearing a chicken drumstick.

"Great space-vampire costume he's got," George added.

Harry remained silent. He hadn't yet told Ron or Hermione about his meeting with Vader a week ago. He doubted they'd be very happy that he'd told Vader that the Muggle world knew of his existence.

He wasn't sure exactly what to feel toward Vader. Anger, yes, for being such a git about his master and for helping the Empire maintain its stranglehold on the galaxy at large, but in a strange way he also pitied him. He was truly in a difficult position, his loyalties caught in a tug-of-war between the Emperor and Dumbledore. Hermione would continue to protest that Vader was a Sith and a mass murderer, but Harry knew there was more to him than that. And he wondered if he could convince him to totally join Dumbledore – and the Order of the Phoenix.

Dumbledore strode into the Great Hall at that moment, followed by a cloaked, hooded being that Harry might have mistaken for a dementor had he not known Dumbledore's intense dislike toward the creatures. The cloaked one sat down at an empty spot at the end of the staff table and helped himself to a plateful of roast while Dumbledore took his usual place and struck up a lively conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Who's that?" asked Ron.

"Dunno," Harry replied. "Member of the Order, maybe?"

"Why doesn't he tell us who it is?" Ron wondered.

"Do you really think he'd stand up and introduce a member of the Order?" Hermione demanded. "What if it were Padfoot under there?"

Sirius! Harry craned his neck and tried to get a glimpse of the face beneath that hood. Was that really his godfather? But his heart sank when he spotted the man's sand-colored hair, nothing like Sirius' jet-black mane…

Blue eyes locked with his own eyes for a split second, and he felt a jolt of recognition.

"It's Luke Skywalker!" he hissed to Hermione.

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Quiet!" Hermione snapped. To Harry she said, "Are you sure it's him?"

"Positive. Look for yourself."

Hermione stared a long time at the man, until he moved his head just right and inadvertently offered a brief glimpse of his profile. "It's him, all right," she noted. "Though why would he be here? Professor Vader would capture him if he knew he was here."

"Not with Dumbledore around," Ron replied. "If Snape could beat Vader in a duel, Dumbledore could whip him in a heartbeat."

"Snape only won because he cheated," Harry reminded him. "And duels aren't Dumbledore's style."

"But you notice he's sticking around the Headmaster," Ron pointed out. "He knows as long as he hangs out with Dumbledore, he's safe."

At that moment one of the skeletons drew a bow over the fraying strings of a splintering violin, creating a melody that seemed a hybrid of "Greensleeves" and a catfight. As one the students and teachers dropped whatever they were holding and clamped their hands over their ears.

"OUCH!" screamed Neville.

"Just making sure you're paying attention, everyone," Dumbledore announced, a cheery smile on his face. "And without further ado, let's have a hand for tonight's entertainment – The Bones Brothers!"

Three of the skeletons stepped forward, bowed gracefully to the applauding students, and commenced a lively tumbling act, their joints clattering all the while. Harry laughed and cheered with everyone else, forgetting for a moment about Dumbledore's guest.

_Potter._

Harry winced involuntarily. _Can you please give me some warning before you do that?_

_My apologies. I notice you've taken a keen interest in our visitor._

_Yeah_, he replied warily. _What's it to you?_

_Then you know of my son, Luke Skywalker_.

Harry's jaw almost fell before he could catch himself. _I didn't realize you knew who that was._

_Luke is strong in the Force – very strong. No matter how well he disguises himself, I can sense his presence._

_Why's he here?_

_That I cannot say. However, I sense you may have some idea…_

Harry clamped off his thoughts. Dumbledore had informed the three of them that no mention of the Order of the Phoenix's pending partnership with the Rebel Alliance was to escape…

It took all his strength to keep from making an agonized grimace as his scar prickled unbearably, and the all-too-familiar rippling motion entered his brain.

_Don't read my mind!_

_Interesting. Very interesting indeed. An alliance… this could be detrimental to Dumbledore's career, I believe…_

_I hate you!_

_Potter, if I cannot pound anything else into your skull this term at Hogwarts, then at least understand this – this goes far beyond the fate of your school. This concerns the fate of the entire wizard world… and the galaxy. We must win the war against the Alliance, and to do that we must purge the Empire of those who would weaken us by plotting with the enemy._

_The enemy is Voldemort! Don't you see that? If you want to fight somebody, fight him, not Dumbledore! Dumbledore's only trying to protect us from Voldemort! And if he thinks getting some help from the Rebellion will help us overthrow the Dark Lord…_

Something lashed against Harry's mind, and he fell to the floor.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione.

Startled voices rippled in his ears, and the clattering stopped as the skeleton dance came to an abrupt halt. He could hear Dumbledore's concerned voice and McGonagall's orders for everyone to back away. Groaning, he tried to stand, but his scar burned again, and Vader's voice burned just as coldly in his mind.

_From this moment on, the partnership between the Alliance and Dumbledore is none of your concern. It is mine, and mine alone, to deal with as I see fit. If you interfere again, I will be forced to take drastic measures._

His throat constricted as if an invisible noose had tightened around his neck, then Vader's influence withdrew.

"Harry, are you all right?"

Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore gazing down at him concernedly.

"Headmaster… I don't feel good…" How he wished he could speak to the Headmaster with his mind, just as he could with Vader!

Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's eyes, however, for he nodded slowly in understanding. "I will be escorting Potter to the hospital wing. I'll need the Gryffindor prefects to help me carry him. McGonagall, carry on in my stead."

"Yes, Headmaster," she replied. She leveled a stern look upon the gawkers, who scattered back to their tables at once.

-

"Blimey," Ron breathed, gaping at Harry once he'd finished telling about his conversation with Vader. "I didn't realize he was that violent…"

"Choking through the Force is one of his favorite methods of execution," Hermione informed him as if reciting from a textbook. "But I didn't think he'd ever try it on a student!" she added with a great deal of vehemence.

Dumbledore looked grave. "Then Vader knows. This will complicate things."

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore," began Harry.

"This is not your fault, Harry," he replied. "Rather, it's the fault of an old fool who thought he could keep a secret from a Sith Lord. Vader is not one to be underestimated – as I'm sure Snape will soon find to his detriment." Surprisingly, a smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "But all is not lost. Now that the ranks are forming and the battle lines have been drawn, Vader cannot go much longer without making a clear choice. Soon he will have to select one master or another."

"But now that Vader knows about the alliance, won't that put you in danger?" asked Harry.

"I don't plan on leaving this school anytime soon," Dumbledore replied calmly. "And I think Vader will be particularly surprised by just how his information is used by the Empire."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore shook his head. "That is for a later date. Thank you, Harry, for telling me. I will see to it that Vader is reprimanded for using magic inappropriately on you."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Headmaster."

"Now back to the feast, all of you. I have a meeting to keep with Skywalker."

-

Luke strolled through the corridors of Hogwarts, entranced. There was so much here to dazzle the eye and the mind! Moving pictures were certainly no novelty, but pictures that could talk and interact with you? Ghosts were nothing new, of course, but the poltergeist (who he had yet to meet but had heard plenty about) was a totally unfamiliar concept. And secret chambers, moving staircases, shifting doors… wow! He wondered if the old Jedi Temple had been anything like this. Probably not – Hogwarts was bizarre enough to rattle the brains of even Master Yoda.

He sank into his own thoughts as he continued walking. The discussion with Dumbledore had gone very well indeed – they could count on the full support of the Order of the Phoenix in the battle against the Empire, it would seem. But Dumbledore had also warned him that the Empire already knew of their alliance, thanks to Vader forcibly extracting the information from a luckless student. Dumbledore did seem confident, however, that Vader was not as great an enemy as most would believe.

Sure, he could say that. He hadn't had to live under the threat of the Dark Lord's saber. And he'd never had said Dark Lord announce that he was blood kin to him, either.

He sighed wearily as he descended a staircase, minding what Dumbledore had told him and skipping the trick step. Vader his father… it was still so hard to comprehend. And the man couldn't have been lying, because both Yoda and Obi-wan had confirmed the fact just a little over a week ago. How would the Rebellion react when they discovered that uncomfortable link?

His thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of water atop his head.

"PEEVES!"

The grinning, cackling poltergeist only lobbed another balloon at him in reply. This one struck him in the chest, further soaking his robes.

"Scared of a little water?" giggled Peeves, a third balloon flying from his hand to hit Luke in the face.

Spluttering, Luke ducked through the nearest door, slamming it just as a fourth balloon burst against the wall where he had been standing.

"Oh, c'mon out and play, stranger!" Peeves pleaded, a wet splash indicating another thrown balloon. "You'd much rather be out here with me than in there with that mean and cranky Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Luke whirled.

Vader was standing behind a desk in what was obviously his office, just as stunned by Luke's sudden entrance as Luke was by his presence. For a tense moment they simply stared at each other, the rhythmic hiss of a respirator and the slow drip of water the only sound.

Vader was the first to recover. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a wand.

"You wouldn't dare…" began Luke.

"_Dehydro_," Vader intoned.

His robes, which had been clinging damply to his skin, now suddenly hung dry and loose on his frame. There was no sign that he had suffered an attack from Peeves.

"Sorry," Luke replied sheepishly. "I thought you were going to…"

"Understood," Vader interrupted.

Luke almost put his hand to the doorknob, more willing to face Peeves than Darth Vader. But he hesitated, then let his hand drop. If he was going to confront his father, this was as good a time as any.

"You must be very brave to come to Hogwarts knowing I was here," Vader noted. "Or very foolish." He cocked his head, evidently expecting Luke to choose an option.

"I was scared at first," Luke admitted. "But I chose to face my past and my fears, rather than run from them."

Vader seemed to tense at that statement. Luke swore he saw his hackles rise. Then the Dark Lord turned and walked to the far end of the room.

"We are not entirely free to talk yet," he explained, and he reached toward a small, almost inconspicuous crack in the ceiling and jerked a long flesh-colored strand of material from it.

"Hey, give that back!" shouted a young man on the other end of the crack.

"Detention for both of you, Fred and George Weasley," Vader retorted.

"You're a real spoilsport, you know," another young man – or was it the same one? – retorted.

"Not like we're Rebel spies," chimed in the other.

"Don't you have any idea how long it took us to make a crack in this floor?"

"Can we please have our Extendable Ear back? Those aren't cheap to make…"

"No," Vader retorted. "Now go before I dock points from Gryffindor."

The boys grumbled, but no more voices came from the crack. Vader threw the Extendable Ear into the fireplace, where it burst into bright blue flames.

"They really didn't mean any harm, I'm sure," Luke said with a smile.

"They will learn respect for a Sith," Vader replied. "_Repairo_."

The crack in the ceiling vanished. Satisfied that no one else would eavesdrop, he turned his entire attention to Luke.

"You have matured," he said slowly. "You have indeed grown powerful, as the Emperor foretold."

Luke nodded. "I know… Father."

Vader returned the nod. "So you have accepted the truth."

Luke decided to be blunt. "I've accepted that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father…"

"That name no longer has any meaning for me," Vader retorted sternly.

"It's the name of your true self," Luke countered. "You've only forgotten."

Vader folded his arms across his chest plate, seeming to exude exasperation. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. Dead from the treachery Obi-wan Kenobi inflicted upon him. I am Darth Vader, and I am your father. Accept it."

Luke shook his head. "I refuse to accept that, Father. I know there is some good in you. And the headmaster knows it as well. Why do you think he hired you in the first place?"

"Because the alternative was to allow the Ministry of Magic to fill the post with their own informant," Vader replied frankly.

Luke decided not to press that particular line of questioning.

"If you are through, Skywalker, I suggest you leave before I order your arrest," Vader advised.

Luke smirked. "You won't as long as Dumbledore's your boss."

Vader snorted electronically. "Smart-mouth."

"As a matter of fact, as long as you're in his employ, there's a lot of things you can't do, isn't there? No choking people, no torture droids, your soldiers can't shoot anyone…"

"You are right that there are activities he prohibits," Vader replied, cutting him off. "But he is a just man. There are always reasons for his actions."

"He sounds like a fair man," Luke acknowledged. "You might consider a permanent post here, you know. It sounds like you've been quite a success here."

Vader glowered at him a moment. "I am a Sith, Luke, not a wizard. After this term, I go back to the Empire. There is no alternative."

"You always have a choice," Luke replied.

"There are no choices under the servitude of the dark side. You will understand someday."

"I don't intend to join the dark side."

"You will, Luke. One way or another."

Luke opened the door. "There are always choices, Father. You know that." He stepped into the doorway and turned back to face Vader. "I've made choices to serve the light side of the Force. It's not too late for you to choose that road as well."

And with that, he left Vader's office and headed for the main gates of Hogwarts.

-

The Forbidden Forest was off-limits to all Hogwarts students, and for good reason. This was the domain of the centaurs, the unicorns, the thestrals, the creatures of the night. Rumor had it that werewolves, acromantulas, and even a feral Muggle car lived in these woods. Few, if any, of these denizens of the forest appreciated the company of wizards, and any who entered without adequate protection were practically begging to be ambushed and devoured, or worse.

Vader thought it a perfect spot for a contemplative walk. With the reputation of these woods, he would be unlikely to be disturbed.

A thestral watched him pass with eerie white eyes, the tight black hide over its skeletal frame gleaming in the moonlight. He kept walking, but his thoughts stayed on the beast for a time. Only those who had seen death could see the thestrals; they were invisible to anyone else. A symbol of death… like himself.

Luke's comment rankled – probably because it was true. He had made choices, and those choices had led him to his current situation as a slave to the dark side. And he had conned himself into believing that he had no other recourse but to remain the demon he was. Which, in a way, wasn't far off – if Palpatine learned that he was even considering turning to the light, he would order his death.

Both Harry and Luke made it sound so easy, didn't they? Just ask Dumbledore to make his post at Hogwarts permanent. But it wasn't that simple… was it?

A small hill blocked his path, and he debated for a moment whether to make a detour around it or attempt to scale it. But noisy footsteps alerted him to Hagrid's approach, and he stepped into the shadows as the overlarge man approached the hill, carrying a huge sack over his shoulder.

"Hey Grawp!" Hagrid announced, stopping at the base of the rise. "Wake up! I brought you supper! Grawp, Hagrid's here!"

The mound stirred, then rose to its feet, making the earth under Vader's feet shudder. He watched, awed. What he'd taken to be a small hill was actually a massive creature, large enough to dwarf Hagrid, which was no mean feat.

"Grawpy, I got you dinner!" Hagrid told his… friend? Pet? Who knew?

"HAGGERRRRR…" the creature growled, gazing dimly at the gamekeeper.

Vader decided to leave before he was noticed, and he took a different path away from the two giants. Well, this was certainly a night of surprises!

His thoughts came to rest, inexplicably, on Trelawney… and her prophecy. There was no doubt in his mind that she had truly delivered prophecy that night he had gone to her tower for a reading. But it was a riddle, as most prophecies were. Dark Lords uniting… betrayed and betrayer… the stag and the dragon… Chosen Ones…

So there were two Chosen Ones. Was the prophecy speaking of another? Or, perhaps, it meant the reuniting of Anakin and Vader – his turning to the light. He dismissed the notion. Anakin and Vader could not exist at the same time. Could the other truly be Harry Potter, as he had first wondered when coming to Hogwarts? And what were the stag and dragon referred to in the prophecy?

Something rustled behind him, and he whirled, saber in hand but not ignited yet. Dumbledore had made it clear that, should he chance a journey into the Forbidden Forest, he was not to injure a centaur or unicorn. Dumbledore had a pact with the centaurs that he had no wish to damage, and legend had it that any who killed a unicorn was cursed for life.

This shape could be nothing of equine origin, however. Its hair-covered body was slung too low, it had too many legs…

He ignited his weapon, the scarlet light illuminating the horrid eight-eyed visage of a massive spider. The creature hissed at the light and reared on its back four legs, clattering its jaws threateningly. Landing back on all fours (eights?) with a thud, it dashed at him. Vader slashed, severing half of one front leg, and the beast screamed in agony.

Something rasped behind him, and he fell and rolled away. A second pair of jaws closed centimeters from him, drooling steaming venom onto the ground. Before he could react to this new foe, a third spider scuttled over to stand over him, bending down for a bite.

He rose to his knees and rammed his saber through the beast's abdomen. Thick green blood spilled over his arms, and it rasped a death scream before crashing to the ground. He yanked the weapon free and got to his feet… to find himself surrounded.

But not by spiders – by centaurs.

Arrows whirred by him, striking the two remaining spiders in the soft areas of their joints and gaps in their carapaces. Hissing in pain and frustrated at being denied a meal, the beasts scurried away. The centaurs lowered their bows and closed their circle to surround Vader.

"This one's a stranger," a black, wild-looking, bearded centaur remarked. "He can't be from the school."

"He could be one of the Dark Lord's followers," a bay with short blond hair theorized.

"Why are we all speaking about him as if he doesn't exist?" demanded a third, a chestnut with a proud, high-cheekboned visage and long black hair. He stepped forward. "Your name, human."

"Darth Vader, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts."

The centaur nodded. "Magorian, leader of the centaurs. And I regret to inform you that you must be escorted from these woods immediately. We informed Dumbledore that humans will no longer be tolerated in our forest, but it would seem you were not given that message."

"I was never informed of that restriction." He bowed very slightly. "Very well. I will be leaving."

Three centaurs followed him to the edge of the forest. Two of them turned back as soon as he emerged, but a third, a palomino with pale hair, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"When you next meet Dumbledore," he whispered, "tell him that I, Firenze, am available to aid him if he requests it, even if my brethren will not."

Vader nodded. "I shall."

Firenze gazed into the night sky, then turned back to Vader. "Be very careful, Vader. Mars burns brightly this year – and your name is written in the stars close by. War is at hand, and I fear you will be involved. But who will you cast your lot with? The night… or the day?"

And with that cryptic, startling remark, the centaur melted into the forest as if he'd never existed.

-

Two days later, the Emperor and Voldemort shared a good laugh over Vader's latest letter. Their maniacal mirth made Wormtail cringe in terror and Nagini flee, hissing, at the uproar.

"An alliance between the Rebellion and Dumbledore!" hooted Voldemort, throwing the parchment into the fireplace. "The Rebels must be desperate!"

"War makes for strange partnerships," Palpatine remarked with a grin.

"Indeed it does." Voldemort wiped greasy tears of laughter from his eyes. "Ah, Palpatine, I can't stand it! This is too easy! The Alliance and Dumbledore joining forces – we can crush them both at once if we play this right!"

"Patience, my fellow Dark Lord," Palpatine told him. "All things take time. How much longer before you have the prophecy?"

"None of my men have been able to acquire it," he replied. "Remember, only those spoken of in a prophecy can pick it up. And I don't dare enter the Ministry. It would blow my cover too quickly."

"I see." Palpatine mused a moment. "If we could lure Potter to the Ministry…"

"Ah, and I know just the way." Voldemort leaned closer. "How much longer before the negotiations between the Empire and the Ministry go through?"

"A few minor disagreements are being cleared up," Palpatine replied. "The alliance treaty will be signed by mid-December, most likely."

"Then listen closely. I have a plan…"


	11. Harry the Teacher, Vader the Student

**Chapter 10 – Harry the Teacher, Vader the Student**

The month of November passed rather uneventfully. Snow graced the grounds now, and students filled their free hours with snowball fights and sliding on the thickly iced-over lake. Even the stormtroopers, usually a rather stiff and gloomy-looking lot, enjoyed themselves, sometimes indulging in a snow war in their off hours.

But not everyone was cheered by the falling snow. Filch rounded on the students constantly for tracking in snow and leaving giant puddles in the corridors, though the latter could probably be attributed to the fact that Fred and George were testing their latest joke-shop product, the Portable Swamp. And the fifth years had little time for antics in the snow – a blizzard of extra homework was coming down upon them in drifts.

"Two scrolls of parchment on the properties of dragon-bone marrow for Potions, an essay on Vanishing Charms for Transfiguration, a report on the giant wars of 1360 for Magic History, a month's worth of dream journaling for Divination, a detailed composition on the twenty most deadly hexes and their counterhexes for Dark Arts…" moaned Ron, slamming his copy of _The Dream Oracle_ shut. "I'll never get it all done."

"If you actually did the homework when you were supposed to, you wouldn't be in this mess," chided Hermione, finishing up the last sentence in her Runes homework. "You're a prefect, Ron, as I and your mother keep reminding you. You're supposed to be setting an example."

"Ease up, Hermione," Harry retorted. "It's not like there hasn't been a load else going on."

"Ron has less reason to be frazzled than you, Harry, yet he's farther behind than you," Hermione pointed out. "He doesn't have the entire Ministry of Magic or the Empire breathing down his neck…"

"Don't remind me," Harry complained, bending over his Charms essay in an effort to end that line of the conversation.

"Hey mate, Vader hasn't hassled you since the Halloween feast, has he?" Ron asked. "I mean, if he's threatened to…"

"He hasn't even looked at me since then," Harry replied.

"Good," Hermione said sharply. "In my opinion, he deserved much more than the reprimand Dumbledore gave him. I think he should have been sacked for what he did to Harry."

"Lay off, Hermione," Harry told her. "Vader's got problems of his own, you know."

"That doesn't excuse what he did to you!"

There was an explosion from near the fireplace, and a second year was propelled across the common room by the blast. Fred and George bolted over to make sure he was all right.

"He's perfectly fine," Fred assured everyone.

"Dosage was a pinch too strong," George added.

"We'll have to tweak the recipe on those Flying Fancies, won't we?" said Fred.

"At least we finally got the Tongue-Twister Taffies all worked out," George replied.

"You will NOT be testing your rubbish on the younger students!" Hermione said scathingly, storming toward the twins.

"C'mon, we're not forcing the stuff down their throats!" Fred protested.

Ron rolled his eyes. "What's her problem anyhow? They're not doing anything harmful."

"She's just stressed out over everything that's happened," Harry replied. "Plus she's mad at Professor Vader. Though I don't know why. Vader didn't choke her; she's got no place to complain."

"Hey Harry, your owl's at the window!" announced Colin.

Harry slid the window open to admit Hedwig. She shook melting snow from her feathers and gave a hoot of relief as she dropped her letter before Harry and went to dry herself before the fire. Crookshanks, Hermione's ginger cat, eyed her hungrily but subsided when she flexed her wicked-looking talons in return.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, bending over. "Sirius?"

"No, he wrote this morning, remember?" Harry replied. "Told me off for getting so friendly with the Dark Arts teacher, that he was an Imperial and not to be trusted." He examined the envelope. "It's postmarked 'Espana.' Where's that?"

"That's what the Spanish call Spain," Hermione offered, coming back to sit at the table. "Is there a return address?"

"No." He ripped it open, withdrawing a sheet of paper that had obviously been printed out on a computer. "Hey, it's Muggle-made!"

"Let me see." Hermione took the paper from him and glanced over it. "That's the Rebel crest on the letterhead, Harry. You've gotten a letter from the Rebel Alliance."

He took the letter back and bent over it.

_Dear Harry,_

_My name is Luke Skywalker. I don't think you know who I am, but I've heard a great deal about you and wanted to introduce myself._

"Course we know who he is…" began Ron.

"He doesn't know that," Harry replied, and he read on.

_I'm Commander of Rogue Squadron – pilots who fly X-wing starfighters – and a Jedi Knight. Like you, I use the Force, or magic as you call it, though I don't use a wand. But on a more personal note, I'm also the son of your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Darth Vader, formerly known as Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker._

_I don't know much about my father – in fact, until last year I didn't even know he was my father. I do know, however, that he's fallen to the dark side. It's my hope that, by working at Hogwarts and staying in close contact with wizards and users of the light side, he may be redeemed and convert back to the light. But I know he can't do it alone._

_I tried reasoning with my father during my visit to Hogwarts this last month, but I'm not sure I got through to him. I can't go back to Hogwarts for some time, for I'm needed with the Alliance. It's my hope that you might be able to help. Talk to him. Let him know your world is always open to him. Try to show him kindness. Maybe we can both contribute something to the redemption of Anakin Skywalker._

_I've seen you sometimes during my meditations, Harry, and I'm amazed at the strength and courage you've shown in your trials and challenges. You are indeed a remarkable young man. I hope we can establish a friendship between us. Please send a letter back. Your owl's an intelligent animal. She'll be able to find our base._

_Sincerely,_

_Luke Skywalker_

"Right," Harry muttered sarcastically. "Don't think I haven't tried to talk sense into him, Luke. And he nearly broke my arm and strangled me in return."

"He's crazy," Hermione decided. "Even if Vader's his father. I've seen the movies, and Vader isn't redeemed until just before he dies."

"He dies?" repeated Ron, stunned.

"Yes. The Emperor tries to kill Luke, and Vader gives his life to save his son."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, stunned.

"Watch your language, Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Vader can't die!" Ron protested. "He's the best Dark Arts professor we've ever had! Harry, you've got to talk to him again! Maybe if he joins the good side…"

"You want to save him, Ron, you talk to him," Harry snapped, slamming his _History of Magic_ book shut. "I'm going to bed."

Once in his dormitory, he changed into pajamas and flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Luke expected him to talk some sense into his father? Fat chance. Muggles would ride unicorns down the streets of London before Harry could pound sense through that thick helmet of Vader's. Besides, he wasn't going to risk bodily harm again. What if this time Vader's temper exploded and he went through with his choking threat, or he used that lightsaber on him?

No, if Luke wanted this job done, he had to do it himself. Harry was through. He'd done enough to help Vader, and he'd rejected his help. If he wanted aid from his son, fine. If he didn't want anyone's help, his loss.

-

But something occurred the very next day that changed Harry's mind.

"Today we will be working on the Patronus Charm," Vader announced upon entering the classroom – he seemed to always be the last one in the room, as if to ensure he made a dramatic entrance. "Put your books away and keep your wands out." The desks once again slid to the edges of the room in a tangle to make for more practice room.

"This should be easy for you, Harry," whispered Ron.

"I will need someone who can describe the nature of the Patronus to the class," Vader requested. "Miss Granger?"

She scowled. She hadn't been volunteering to give information. "The Patronus is a creature that only a few wizards have the ability to conjure – a physical manifestation of happiness that can drive away dark creatures such as dementors. They're unique from person to person, but all take concentration on an exceptionally happy thought to produce."

"Thank you. Ten points for Gryffindor."

The Slytherins knew better by now than to make any snide comments, but they glared at Hermione all the same.

"It is rare for a student your age to produce a corporeal Patronus," Vader went on. "Most students, on their first tries, produce what appears to be silver smoke. Today we will work on… what is it, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Professor Vader, Harry can conjure a Patronus!" Neville exclaimed.

"Really," said Vader, not sounding very convinced. "This I must see. Mr. Potter, demonstrate the Patronus Charm for the class."

Harry stepped forward, raised his wand, and concentrated with all his might on the memory of winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup his third year.

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

The silver stag he'd become so familiar with burst from the end of his wand and cantered about the perimeter of the classroom, students screaming in surprise and leaping out of its way. It seemed to veer toward a terrified Malfoy for a moment – maybe it remembered the time Malfoy had impersonated a dementor in order to sabotage a Quidditch match – then slowed to a walk, approached Vader majestically, and dropped a regal bow before dissipating into silvery vapor.

The Gryffindors applauded while the Slytherins muttered amongst themselves.

"That was amazing!" Ron said in awe, clapping him on the back.

Vader stared at the spot where the Patronus had vanished a long time, seemingly deep in thought. "The stag…" he mused. "So that's…" His head snapped up, and he addressed the class in a more normal tone of voice. "An impressive display, Mr. Potter. However, keep in mind that this result at your age is the exception, not the rule." He motioned for Ron to step forward. "We'll begin with you, Mr. Weasley. Focus on a good memory and repeat the incantation."

Ron nodded and closed his eyes in concentration. "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A jet of smoke issued from the end of his wand, wavered, and faded.

"That is the more typical result at this stage," Vader said. "Miss Granger, you're next."

Her attempt produced something a little more substantial – something with four legs and a blurry body that hit the floor and scrambled a few steps before vanishing.

Hers, apparently, would be the best first attempt besides Harry's. Attempts at Patronuses created a great deal of silver vapor and smoke, occasionally something with legs or wings, but nothing with a definite shape. Harry thought Malfoy's looked rather serpentine, but he couldn't be sure. Neville's efforts were the worst – the most that ever came out of his wand was a faint wisp, like a thread of smoke from a burning cigarette.

"We will attempt this again," Vader declared in a tone of long-suffering. "Miss Granger, yours was the closest to becoming corporeal. Try again."

"_Expecto Patronum_!" she cried.

Again the four-legged body appeared, blurred, then streamlined into a tapered shape that darted forward, slid on its belly across the floor, and twined about Vader's legs like a cat. The Patronus, in the form of a cheeky-faced otter, gamboled playfully about the room before fading away.

"Nice one, Hermione!" cheered Dean.

"Great," Harry told her.

"Hey Professor Vader," asked Lavender. "What's your Patronus shaped like?"

Vader did not reply but gazed coolly at her.

"So the mighty Darth Vader can't even conjure up a Patronus?" sneered Malfoy, unable to resist a haughty guffaw.

"Fifty points from Slytherin," Vader retorted. "Jedi and Sith use magic differently from wizards. Thus, we do not use typical charms and spells such as the Patronus. The only reason I have not produced a Patronus is because I have not had occasion or need to."

Everyone stared at the professor expectantly, some gazing rather pointedly upon the wand that hung from a clip on his belt. The question, though silent, was clear – since you now have a wand and know how to use it, why not produce a Patronus now?

"Very well," Vader said exasperatedly. He removed the wand and paused a moment, no doubt trying to concentrate on a particular memory. "_Expecto Patronum_."

Nothing. Not even a puff of vapor.

There was tense silence for a long moment. When the dismissal bell rang, it nearly made everyone jump out of their skin.

"Get out," Vader ordered the class in a deadly tone.

The room emptied in record time. The Slytherins were chortling and sneering in fiendish glee – Vader was supposedly so powerful, and he couldn't even produce a Patronus!

"Figures," Hermione told Ron and Harry. "The Patronus isn't exactly dark-side magic."

"I don't think it's that, Hermione," Harry replied.

"But even Neville produced something when he did the charm," she countered. "If Vader, who's studied the Force or magic or whatever for decades, can't even do that, what else could it be but that he can't do it with the dark side?"

"It takes more than magic to do it," said Harry. "It also takes concentration on a good thought or memory."

"Are you saying that he can't do it because he has no happy memories?" Hermione demanded. "Of course he should have happy memories! Everyone does!"

"C'mon, Hermione, it makes sense," Ron said in Harry's defense. "Remember that night when we read his life story? He was born a slave, he was forbidden from marrying his true love, he's got a sadistic git for a master, his body's half-machine, his own kids are fighting against him… not much happiness in that sort of life, is there?"

Hermione whirled to face them. "Look, you two, my father's a huge Star Wars fanatic, which means I know more about Star Wars than probably anyone else in Gryffindor, possibly in Hogwarts. And I've never understood why so many people who are fans of the movies can harbor any sympathy toward Vader. He's a cruel, evil, violent, heartless mass murderer and servant to the dark side. I see nothing – absolutely nothing – in his character that is worth redeeming."

"But he did die for his son," Ron defended. He hesitated, looking a little confused. "Or will, or might, or… whatever. That's something, isn't it? If he was really as cruel and evil as you say, would he even give a damn?"

Hermione shook her head disdainfully and marched off.

"What's her problem?" Ron asked.

"I think she just said it," Harry replied. "She's grown up around Star Wars. Since the movies make him out to be the villain, that's all she sees him as."

"Poor guy," Ron murmured. "He must have a miserable life if he can't even find one happy thought to make a Patronus."

Harry was silent as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. It had been difficult for him to produce a Patronus his first few – or few dozen – times, but at least on his first attempt he'd managed to make something. He'd had at least a few happy memories to draw on, even among the Dursleys. But if Vader, who'd lived much longer than Harry, couldn't even find one pleasant memory amidst over forty years of misery… he was truly to be pitied.

He made himself a promise then and there. Tonight he would pay a visit to Vader's office.

-

The stormtrooper entered Vader's office and saluted.

"What is it?" he demanded, looking up from grading a stack of essays.

"Sir," the soldier barked, "Mr. Harry Potter is here to see you."

Vader was silent a moment, quill still poised over Neville's atrocious composition. What did Harry want at this hour? He doubted any of the students would have the guts to come into his office and laugh in his face, but all the same he had little desire to see any of them tonight. His failure before the entire class had been a rather humiliating experience.

"Show him in," he said at last.

"Yes sir." He strode outside.

Vader continued to correct the essay in scarlet ink – Mr. Longbottom's essay was going to be more red than black by the time Vader was through with it. He didn't know why it was such a big deal that he was unable to perform the Patronus Charm. Even many adult wizards couldn't master it. But the fact that even the least among the class was able to produce something and he, the second-in-command of the Empire and most powerful Force-user in the galaxy, couldn't even do that…

Harry entered the classroom, flanked by stormtroopers. Vader gestured sharply to the men, and they departed, leaving him alone with Harry.

"What do you want?" Vader demanded, marking a final slash on the essay before going on to the next.

"Professor," Harry said, "I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon."

Vader shook his head. "This was none of your doing, Mr. Potter."

"I know," he replied. "But I'd like to apologize anyhow. If not for what I did, then on behalf of the Gryffindors for talking about it behind your back."

Vader stared at Harry a moment. Of all the students in his fifth-year class, Harry probably had the least reason to come forward and give an apology. What could possibly motivate him to do so?

_His heart, perhaps_, a small voice in the back of his mind suggested.

"Accepted, Potter," he replied. "If you are finished…"

"No," Harry replied. "I… I came to make an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yeah. I think I could… well… maybe I could show you how to do a Patronus?"

Red blots of ink spattered across Malfoy's essay as he stood abruptly, startled. "What?"

"I could show you how to do a Patronus," Harry repeated, somewhat subdued by Vader's reaction. "Um… if you'd like…"

"You would do that… for me?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Vader sat back down, reason overcoming surprise. "All right, Potter, what is it you want? I know someone your age would not make such an offer without expecting something in return."

"I don't want anything in return," Harry protested.

"Potter…" He growled a little in exasperation. "Decide on something, then. I refuse to take charity from anyone. Least of all you."

Harry grinned. "All right then. I'll teach you how to do the Patronus Charm if you promise that I can talk to you without getting choked from now on."

"Deal struck," Vader replied, standing and extending a hand.

Harry took his hand, shaking on the deal. "Okay… um… sorry, I haven't taught anyone before… when Professor Lupin taught me to do a Patronus, he had a boggart handy… you know about boggarts…"

"Yes. I presume that, around you, the boggart became a dementor."

"Yeah. But I dunno what the boggart'll become when you face it. Um, what's a happy memory you have?"

Vader searched his memory. "When I was young – younger than you when you first came to Hogwarts – I used to fly podracers." He smiled a little at the memory of sitting behind the controls, leaning into curves, exhilarating in the feel of speed and raw power and the wind in his face…

"Great. Now focus on it… extend your wand…"

Vader lost himself in that memory of the Boonta Eve Podrace, of roaring through Beggar's Canyon and deftly dodging rock formations and other racers…

Of Sebulba's treachery and sabotage of his podracer…

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

A fine jet of silver vapor hissed from his wand. He swore under his breath. Why had he allowed THAT to slip into his mind?

"That's great!" Harry cheered. "Want to give it another go?"

"I need a different memory," Vader stated.

"Okay, think of one."

He considered. Perhaps the memory of his mother would suffice. Despite the fact that they had both been slaves to Watto, their life together had been happy. Her loving smile, kindly eyes…

Her death at the hands of the Sandpeople, and his subsequent descent into mad fury…

"_Expecto Patronum_! Stang it all!"

Another puff of vapor issued from his wand. This one was slightly more substantial, but nothing like Harry's stag or Hermione's otter.

"Listen, that was still really good," Harry encouraged. "Let's do it again…"

"This is madness," Vader snarled.

"C'mon, it takes practice," Harry insisted. "If that memory didn't work, try another one."

He hesitated, then lifted the wand again. What possible memory could he have that wasn't somehow tainted with anger or grief or rage…

Padme. Of course. His beloved, her kiss, her touch, the completeness he'd always felt around her… his first memory of her angelic beauty in the junk shop… then later, just before the Clone Wars, and their furtive moments of tenderness stolen at every chance…

_A Jedi shall not know discouragement… nor despair… nor love_… the Code… his expulsion from the Order…

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

"All right!" cheered Harry as the strongest attempt at a Patronus yet burst from the wand, unfurling and hanging in the air for a breathless moment before dissipating. "That was really close, I think it had wings… maybe an eagle…"

"I'm through for the night," Vader said sternly. "Go back to your dormitory, Potter. We will resume this tomorrow night."

"Fine by me," Harry replied, and he turned to go.

A strange prompting urged Vader to speak up. "Potter?"

Harry turned slightly. "What?"

"Potter… I apologize… for my actions at the Halloween feast."

Harry smiled. "That's okay. I forgive you."

Vader nodded. "May the Force be with you."

"You too," Harry replied, and he left.

Vader sat down and stared at the stack of essays before him, then pushed them aside. If it was going to be this difficult to conjure a Patronus, he'd need to work in some practice before their next session together.

"_Expecto Patronum_," he intoned, frowning at the indistinct shapes emerging from his wand. "_Expecto Patronum_…"


	12. Treaty and Treason

**Chapter 11 – Treaty and Treason**

"Refill, sir?" asked the bartender.

"No thanks," Luke replied, placing a hand over his butterbeer glass.

The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade was alive with activity – witches and wizards from every walk of life were taking a break from the blinding weather and rapidly piling snow to thaw and dry out, enjoy some gossip, and indulge in a favorite drink – or two, or nine. Sitting on Luke's left was a giggly blonde witch in reddish-violet robes who constantly made calf eyes at Luke over her gillywater. On his right, a pale fanged man in a hooded robe hunched over his own drink as if to hide its contents from the rest of the pub.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like anything else?" the bartender asked.

"A room, if you have any empty ones," Luke replied. "I'd prefer one with a window, but I'm not choosy."

"We have a window-room vacant, sir, and it's yours for ten Sickles a night," he replied.

Luke handed over the coins, grateful that he'd stopped by Gringotts and acquired some wizard money before venturing into Hogsmeade. "Keep it open for me."

"Room 104, behind the portrait of the fat wizard in the badger-fur cape," the man informed him.

Well, that had been simple. Mothma had wanted Luke to come back to this wizard's village and remain near Hogwarts, just in case further negotiations needed to be worked out between the Rebellion and the Order of the Phoenix. Luke had expected to find considerable opposition, but to his great surprise he was universally accepted as a fellow wizard.

"I love your accent," the blonde witch giggled, hiccupping abruptly at the end of that sentence. "Are you an American wizard?"

"Uh… yeah," Luke replied. "I'm visiting my… um… aunt in the old country for Christmas." Mothma had been clear on that point – he couldn't divulge his identity as a Jedi Knight or even as a citizen of the galaxy beyond the wizard's world. With the treaty between the Ministry and the Empire set to be signed any day now, he couldn't risk capture.

"Who's your auntie?" she asked. "Maybe I know her."

He was spared having to lie any further, for she hiccupped again and tipped backward off her barstool, snoring. The bartender rolled his eyes and motioned for his son to go out and haul the witch someplace where she could sober up.

Luke pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and smoothed it out, taking a moment to review the letter Harry had sent back to him.

_Luke,_

_Nice to hear from you. Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, you're pretty great yourself, you know._

_Professor Vader's been a great teacher – I think we've learned more from him than from any other Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, except maybe Lupin. My friend Hermione's not too fond of him, but that's her problem. And our Potions Professor, Snape, hates him too, but he hates most everyone that isn't a pureblood._

_I'll try to talk to your dad, Luke, but it's not going to be easy. He's pretty confused right now – he doesn't know whether to fight for Dumbledore or the Empire. Dumbledore says he can't go much longer without making a choice. I just hope he chooses the right side to fight for._

_If you want to write back, send your letters to the Burrow. That's my friend Ron's house. He's invited me there for the holidays, and we leave tomorrow morning._

_Merry Christmas._

_Harry Potter_

_P.S. I'm teaching your dad to do the Patronus Charm. Kind of funny, isn't it, that I'm teaching my teacher? He's not doing so well, but hey, it takes practice._

_Oh, and Ron says hello._

Luke laughed softly and folded the letter back up. So Harry and his father had established a cordial relationship. That was good news. He needed good news badly.

Two wizards were muttering over the Daily Prophet nearby, discussing an article detailing the latest in the endless negotiations between the Empire and the Ministry of Magic. From what Luke could overhear, the deliberations were drawing to a close, and an agreement would shortly be reached. That would not bode well for the Rebellion – or for Hogwarts, especially now that Dumbledore had joined the Rebellion.

He stared into his almost-empty glass. Somehow he just couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen, and that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

-

The snowstorm outside was probably the worst Hogwarts had faced in a century. The wind screamed past the windows and piled snow in great drifts against the walls and around the grounds. All Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy classes had been cancelled for five days running, not to mention Quidditch practice and Hogsmeade weekends. Those few students that dared brave the white maelstrom required Thawing Charms and a strict regimen of Pepper Draughts to recover.

Being confined to the castle meant that the students had a great deal of extra energy to release, and unfortunately most chose to burn that extra energy by further tormenting the stormtroopers. When they weren't hexing and jinxing them at every opportunity, they were pulling elaborate pranks on them. Their armor turned every color of the rainbow, their blasters were hexed to turn into centipedes and bats when touched, and five of them spent a full day in the hospital wing after mysteriously sprouting antennae.

Perhaps the final straw was when three Slytherin seventh years managed to place a Vanishing Charm on the outside-facing wall of the stormtroopers' quarters, meaning the room was filled with snow when the soldiers retired that night. The angry and very cold troopers stormed the dungeons, engaging in a furious battle with the students. Snape restored order by Stunning the troops, but his efforts to protect his students from punishment failed – Dumbledore ordered all three students suspended for their actions.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Ron said resignedly. "And Snape was all set to pin the blame on Fred and George."

"We had a solid alibi, little bro," Fred said proudly. "We were planting a niffler in Snape's office at the time."

"Besides, we're pranksters, not torturers," George added. "We're all for a little harmless fun, but filling someone's bedroom with snow's just low."

"You're talking about Slytherins, mate," Fred reminded his twin.

"Yeah, they're a low lot, eh?" George admitted.

Harry pretended not to be listening, staring into the fireplace and wishing Sirius would turn up in the flames. He found himself missing his godfather. Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father… and to think of him cooped up in that hideous hole that passed itself off as the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black depressed Harry even more. If only they could invite Sirius to the Burrow for Christmas too…

"Harry, it's late," Hermione told him. "Why don't you go to bed? You look tired."

Harry shrugged. "I wish Padfoot could join us for Christmas."

She sighed. "I know, Harry. But he's got to stay hidden for his own good."

"It can't be good for him to be locked in that house with a foul-mouthed house elf and constant reminders of his horrible family."

She looked about to rail on him for his comment regarding Kreacher but thought better of it. "Well, maybe once this whole battle against Voldemort is over, Dumbledore can insist Sirius gets a fair trial – or at least a trial period. Then we can prove his innocence, and he can come out of hiding at last."

"That'll be great," Harry said with a smile.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Harry," she told him. "See you after the holidays, and have fun at Ron's."

"I'll try."

The common room was finally quieting down. Only Harry, Fred, George, and Seamus remained, and seeing as Seamus was asleep in his chair and Fred and George were poring over a stack of order forms for their joke shop, there wasn't much chance that anyone else was going to strike up conversation with him. He might as well take up Hermione's suggestion, it must be midnight or close to it, and he was pretty tired…

He dozed a little in the plush chair, dreaming that he was at the Burrow for Christmas dinner, and Sirius was laughing and dancing a merry waltz with Mrs. Weasley while a stormtrooper played "Sleigh Ride" on the bagpipes nearby…

…he waited in the shadows, silent, ready to emerge at any moment. But he bided his time, awaiting the Emperor's signal to act.

"Then it's all settled!" Fudge said with great relish, signing the document with a flourish. "Weasley, you got this all down? The alliance between the Ministry of Magic and the Galactic Empire is now official!"

"Yes sir," Junior Undersecretary Percy Weasley replied, shoving his glasses farther up his nose before resuming his note-taking.

"Good," Palpatine replied easily, adding his own signature to the paper. "Good. I am very relieved to know that there will be no more contention between our worlds, Minister Fudge."

The wizards gathered in this room to witness the signing of this treaty applauded. The entire Wizenmagot was present, as were other high-born and high-ranking wizards – Malfoy, Umbridge, Montague, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle… the cream of wizarding society. The Empire, surprisingly, seemed rather underrepresented in this room, with the black-robed Emperor being the only non-wizard in the audience chamber.

"And may I suggest that, as our first act as a joint government, we replace a few key figures in the Ministry?" Palpatine said smoothly. "I had one post in mind… one that has been causing a great deal of trouble since the Triwizard Tournament, I hear…"

"Ah, yes," Fudge replied, eyes agleam. "It's high time the Ministry did something about that delusional old man… very well, we'll have Dumbledore removed at once! May I suggest as a very competent replacement, my associate Dolores Umbridge…"

The toad-like witch giggled girlishly and blushed. "Oh Minister, you really shouldn't…"

"That will be for later, Minister," Palpatine replied. "I was thinking a much more… pertinent post." His sickly yellow eyes rested on Fudge, and a sly grin curled his lips.

It took a moment for Fudge to catch on. "W-w-what? Surely you can't mean…"

"I mean just that, Fudge. The Empire is a strong government, and we need strong leaders to keep it that way. You, unfortunately, are a weak-minded fool."

The Wizenmagot whispered amongst themselves, puzzled at this sudden turn of events. Both Umbridge and Percy looked genuinely frightened, and Fudge's normally rosy face paled considerably.

"You can't mean… you can't just… I'm Minister of Magic…" sputtered Fudge.

"You are Minister of Magic no longer," Palpatine cut in, smiling more broadly than ever. "The Ministry of Magic is under MY control now – and the entire wizard world is MINE. In your pathetic place I shall install a governor of the wizard's world…a strong man, an appropriate leader, one who will bring order to your world." And he nodded into the shadows.

He stepped out into the open, letting his ruby gaze sweep the chamber. Horrified gasps and shrieks met his entrance, and looks of fright crossed every face – except those of his followers, who edged closer to the unsuspecting Fudge.

Fudge was nearly transparent with fear, his eyes so wide they resembled white gumballs. "Merlin's beard! L-l-lord V…Vol… You-Know-Who… he can't… he…" His voice rose in pitch with every fragment of a sentence he managed to squeeze out, until he could only open and shut his mouth in terror like a goldfish dumped out of its bowl.

"Lord Voldemort, newly instated Governor of the Wizard World, my second-in-command," Palpatine introduced grandly, giving a slight bow in Voldemort's direction.

"Thank you," he rasped. "And my first act as governor..." He aimed his wand at Fudge.

"NO! NO! NO!" Fudge howled, and he turned to bolt. But Crabbe and Goyle grabbed his arms in bone-crushing grips, keeping him firmly in place.

Umbridge was the first to act, but she was too slow in drawing her wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The flabby witch collapsed to the ground in a heap. The other non-Death-Eaters in the room began screaming and running in all directions, some surging forward to rescue Fudge, others stampeding for the exit. Blasts of green fire seared the air for a few moments, and one by one those not loyal to Voldemort dropped like shot birds.

Percy Weasley was the last to fall, though not to a killing curse. He'd nearly made it to the door, but he tripped over Umbridge's body and cracked his head painfully on the stone wall, knocking himself out cold. Voldemort paid him no more mind.

"And now, Minister…" he purred, turning back to the portly wizard.

"No! Please! I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"

"_Crucio!"_

Fudge's scream tore through the night…

…but they were Harry's screams now – screams of horror and pain. His scar sent stabs of fire through his brain as if trying to carve his head apart.

"Harry, what the bloody hell…" demanded Fred, shaking him out of his nightmare.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "What's going on? You've woken up everyone in Gryffindor Tower!"

"Where's Hermione?" Harry demanded, clamping a hand over his throbbing scar. "I need to tell you something…"

Hermione jerked her head toward the portal. "I've got your cloak, Harry. We can talk in the hallway."

-

Vader strode out of the teacher's lounge, thoughtful. Dumbledore had called the entire faculty together to discuss the upcoming O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. tests and how he expected each teacher to prepare their fifth and seventh year students for their examinations. Extra assignments were not enough, he'd impressed upon them; he expected them to emphasize the importance of the tests, to provide tutorship if necessary, and to incorporate as much O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level material in their classes as possible.

"Vader, I don't see much in your curriculum that requires changing," Dumbledore had told him. "You seem to be covering all the basics in your classes. Keep going as you are and don't be afraid to pull aside certain students for some extra coaching."

Well, he could think of several students in his classes that would need a lot of "extra coaching" to achieve something satisfactory on their O.W.L. exams. Neville Longbottom, for one, not to mention Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy… although Mafloy would do well enough in his classes if he would just apply himself to the work…

Fire seared through his body, and he buckled to his knees with a sharp cry of pain. His entire being screamed in agony. As if from far away, he could hear the cries of others… of people suffering… dying… pleading for mercy…

He could have wept in relief as the pain subsided. But those screams still resounded in his mind, haunting him, spurring him to action. He got to his feet, extending his senses to seek the source of this premonition…

"Taking a short nap, Vader?"

"Go away, Snape," he hissed, in no mood to deal with the Potions Professor right now.

"You know, collapsing in the halls in a screaming fit usually isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world," Snape went on in an oily voice. "Perhaps you should have Madam Pomfrey perform a mental evaluation…"

"Let me pass, Snape," he ordered, striding forward. If nothing else, he should see Dumbledore. Whether he liked it or not, the man was his superior for now. Something of this magnitude occurring in his school needed to be reported.

"Why should I?" sneered Snape, sidestepping to block his path.

"Don't make me do something you'll regret," he retorted.

"I'm not through with you yet," Snape growled, reaching for his wand.

Vader was quicker on the draw. Jamming his wand into the Potions Professor's stomach, he snarled the first incantation to come to his mind.

Then he stepped easily over the bewildered-looking iguana and continued toward Dumbledore's office.

-

Ron's face was white with sheer horror by the time Harry finished telling him and Hermione about his nightmare. "P-Percy?"

"He's not dead," Harry consoled him. "But I think he's hurt."

"Voldemort's at the Ministry of Magic!" Hermione exclaimed. "And the Emperor's taking over the Minsitry! This is serious, Harry! You have to tell Dumbledore!"

"You don't think I was going to keep this a secret, do you?" Harry asked her.

"Let's go!" she urged, and the three of them took off as fast as they could without losing the Invisibility Cloak.

They had almost made it to Dumbledore's office when Vader strode out of a side corridor and nearly ran into them.

"Potter!" he exclaimed.

"Professor, I have to see Dumbledore!" Harry told him. "It's an emergency!"

Vader gave a sharp nod. "I sense it too, Harry."

"How do we know he's not in on it?" hissed Hermione.

Ron trod heavily on her foot to shut her up.

At the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office they paused, and Harry began shouting possible passwords.

"Lemon Drop! Cockroach Cluster! Fizzing Whizzbees! Chocolate Frogs! Canary Creams!"

"Harry, you're wasting time!" Hermione snapped.

"Peppermint Toads! C'mon… c'mon… Skivving Snackboxes!"

The gargoyle sprang to the side. Without pausing they climbed the stairs and began pounding on the door to the Headmaster's office.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"McGonagall, this is an emergency," Vader stated, turning to face the Transfiguration Professor. "We have to see Dumbledore immediately."

"We?" She glanced at the floor, where, Harry belatedly realized, the toe of Ron's shoe was visible. "I see Potter is out wandering the corridors again…"

"Professor, it's about Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed, throwing back the cloak. "He's at the Ministry of Magic, he's torturing Cornelius Fudge, the Emperor's with him and he's made Voldemort governor of the wizarding world…"

Vader gave Harry a look that, even through the mask, could best be described as a gape.

"Potter," McGonagall said sternly, "I am not doubting the validity of your claim, nor am I forbidding you from seeing Dumbledore. But you cannot go in there."

"Why not?" Ron demanded.

"Because Dumbledore is not there," she replied. "He is in London, taking care of business."

"Business?" repeated Vader.

She sighed. "There can be no more hiding it from you, Professor Vader. Dumbledore is at the head of an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix, of which many of our Professors are part. We have organized to fight Lord Voldemort and those who support him. The reason Dumbledore has gone is because there is a traitor among the Order of the Phoenix."

"A traitor?" Hermione repeated. "Who?"

"That is what he has gone to find out," McGonagall replied. "I suggest, Potter, that you send him an owl at once. There is nothing more you can do."

"But there is something more I can do," Vader countered, and he brushed past McGonagall and descended the stairs.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Validating the authenticity of Potter's bizarre accusation," he replied. "As an Imperial, I am obligated to investigate such claims."

"Vader, you can't possibly…" she began.

"This is out of your jurisdiction, McGonagall," he said firmly.

She sighed again. "Well, I suppose I cannot keep you from killing yourself, Vader. Potter, Weasley, Granger, go to the Owlery and send a message to Dumbledore, then go straight to bed."

They slipped back under the cloak and ran down the stairs.

"Follow Vader," Harry hissed.

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "He could be leading us into a trap…"

"He doesn't believe the Emperor and Voldemort are working together," Harry defended. "He's not going to hurt us."

"You heard McGonagall – there's a traitor in the Order! What if it's him?"

"He's not in the Order, and he's not working for Voldemort!" Harry snapped. "Besides, he needs help if he's going to be facing both Voldemort and his deranged master!"

"We have to go, Hermione," Ron added. "Percy's in trouble. I don't care if he's acting like an idiot, he's my brother, and I'm not going to let him die!"

She sighed. "I'm going to regret this."

-

The shuttle Electrus sat just a short ways behind Hagrid's hut, its cloaking device on to prevent over-inquisitive students from poking around with it. At a gesture from Vader the device was deactivated, and stormtroopers began prepping it for his departure.

Voldemort and the Emperor at the Ministry? Was this a delusion of Potter's to convince Vader to reject the Empire? Or was it the truth? He couldn't be sure, but he knew he had to investigate. If nothing else, he had to find out the truth – and to seek out the source of that deadly premonition he had felt.

He felt the presences of Harry, Ron, and Hermoine behind him. Without turning he stated, "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"We're coming with you," Harry replied firmly, throwing back his Invisibility Cloak.

"No, Potter. This is Imperial business."

"It's our business too," he replied. "I've faced Voldemort before. I can help you fight him. And we have to help Ron save his brother."

"Potter…"

"And you owe me," Harry added. "I wasn't going to press this issue, but you owe me big for saving you from Snape. We're going with you whether you like it or not."

Vader glowered down at Harry a few moments, then gave a frustrated growl. "Very well, I concede, Potter. Get in the shuttle."

"Whoa," gaped Ron, staring up at the starship.

"And how do you propose to hide THAT from Muggles in downtown London?" Hermione demanded.

"A cloaking device," Vader replied. "Now get aboard if you're coming."

She scowled, then marched up the gangplank, dragging a gawking Ron behind her. Harry was close behind. Vader entered behind the students, and with a scream from its thrusters the Electrus rose into the air.

From the Forbidden Forest a shadowy figure dashed, clad in battered armor and carrying a blaster rifle. The figure stooped, picked up Harry's forgotten Invisibility Cloak, and blasted into the air after the shuttle via jet pack. He landed upon the port wing and hugged the side of the shuttle just as it vanished, and he hurriedly wrapped himself in the appropriated cloak.

"You owe me extra for this, Dumbledore," Fett muttered as the Electrus and its stowaway shrieked toward London.


	13. Peril at the Ministry

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Section breaks wouldn't go through when I uploaded this chapter, no matter how hard I tried. Thus, I typed in the word "Break" whenever the action switched to another viewpoint. I'll correct this if/when lets me._

**Chapter 12 – Peril at the Ministry**

Luke jerked awake, completely disoriented. The screams that had pierced his dreams were now a faint memory, but they were still enough to jar him out of bed. It was as if a dozen voices had cried out in an extremity of terror and pain… and were suddenly silenced.

"Someone's up early," mumbled the cracked mirror.

"I don't need your comments," he retorted, pulling on his robes. Last night the mirror had been uncomfortably chatty while he was undressing.

"Oh, he's cranky too," it replied. "Sorry to have disturbed you, your Highness."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled on his boots.

"I need to talk to you."

"I'm not having a conversation with a piece of glass," he shot back.

"No, not the mirror. I'm here in the fireplace."

Luke spun to face the fire, which had somehow kept going all night. A woman's face peered out of the flames, a copper-skinned oval face with acid-yellow hair.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Name's Tonks. I'm communicating through the Floo Network from Order of the Phoenix headquarters. There's been an emergency, and Dumbledore needs Alliance help."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll send a message to the Spain Outpost," Luke replied, kneeling before the fireplace.

"Good. We need troops to evacuate headquarters – we've been betrayed, and we've got stormtroopers banging on the door. And we need soldiers sent to the Ministry of Magic too. Dumbledore says there's trouble there."

"I'll tell the Alliance."

"And Dumbledore says to give you a message – your father's at the Ministry and can probably use your help."

Luke's jaw snapped open. "What?"

"That's all he told me," Tonks replied with a shrug. "Gotta go, a stormtrooper just got in, have to Stun him or something. You might want to hurry. We can't hold up much longer." She vanished.

_Break…_

The Electrus touched down atop a department store, unnoticed thanks to the cloaking device. Vader and the students disembarked, followed by a handful of stormtroopers.

"Stay here until I give orders otherwise," Vader told the soldiers.

"Yes sir," the squad leader replied, saluting.

"Where'd the ship go?" asked Ron, turning and squinting. "Is it like those thestrals Hagrid showed us, you can't see it unless…"

"You can't see it when the cloaking device is on, that's all," Harry told him. "Just like the Invisibility Cloak…" His voice trailed off as he realized something. "No! I left it back at Hogwarts!"

"There will be plenty of time to retrieve it once this whole fiasco's over," Vader replied, heading for the door that led to the building's lower levels. "If you're coming, follow me."

They bolted down five flights of stairs, through darkened corridors and past store displays crammed with electronic gadgets or expensive jewelry. All the while Harry's scar twinged painfully, urging him onward.

"Who's there?" someone shouted, and a beam of light pierced the gloom.

Vader motioned for them to duck behind a rack of silk pinafores. They stayed there, motionless, as the security guard approached, his flashlight trained on the rack.

"He's going to find us," Hermione said balefully. "And he'll probably freak out when he finds three wizard students and a Sith…"

Vader raised his hand slightly. "There's no one here," he murmured.

The guard paused, a blank look on his face. "There's no one here," he muttered to himself.

"You're hearing things," Vader went on.

"I'm hearing things."

"Move on."

"I'll move on."

Ron watched the guard putter away, awed. "You did a Memory Charm! And without a wand!"

"Looked more like the Imperius Curse to me," Harry replied.

"It was the Jedi mind trick," Hermione corrected. "But who cares what it's called? Let's get to the Ministry."

"It's somewhere around here," Harry told them. "We've got to get out of the store first."

At the first floor they charged out the entrance, and Harry led them through the storm, down the vacant, snow-filled sidewalk and toward the rundown-looking telephone box. A drunken bum had claimed the box as shelter for the night, but the moment he spotted Vader's mask he burst out of the glass booth and fled shrieking into the night.

"Wow, he didn't really take to you," Ron noted.

"Aren't you going to modify his memory?" asked Harry. "What if he tells someone he saw you?"

"He's a drunk," Vader replied. "Who will believe him?"

"Right." Harry eyed the box skeptically. "This is the only way in… but I dunno how we're going to all get inside…"

"My dad said that when he was at dental school, he and some friends all tried to see how many students they could fit in a telephone box," Hermione said. "The highest they got was twelve, so four shouldn't be a problem."

"Your dad sounds cool," muttered Ron. "How'd he have such a stuffy daughter?"

Vader entered first, and the three students squeezed in after him. Harry wriggled past Vader's considerable bulk and dialed the code.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," announced the cool female voice he'd heard that summer before his hearing. "Please state your name and business."

"Lord Darth Vader, accompanied by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley," Vader replied. "We are here to verify Mr. Potter's claim that the Empire and Lord Voldemort have taken over the Ministry."

"And to rescue my brother too!" Ron added.

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Four name badges clattered noisily out of the coin return slot. Hermione scooped them up and dutifully passed them around. Harry glanced at his quickly before stuffing it into his pocket – it read _Harry Potter, Investigation/Rescue Mission_.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium…"

"Yeah, whatever, fine, move!" shouted Harry.

The box shuddered and began to slide downward, and the view of the Muggle street slowly vanished.

"What's happening?" demanded Vader.

"The Ministry's underground," Harry replied. "This is the only entrance unless you know how to Apparate."

"Wands out," Hermione suggested. "If the Empire really is here…"

"Which it is," Harry replied tartly.

"…then we'll need to protect ourselves."

A chink of golden light illuminated their feet, a chink that widened until the box had descended enough that they could see the Atrium. The fireplaces under the mantelpieces seemed to be out, and the room looked eerily deserted. The Fountain of Magical Brethren continued to gush, its constant trickle and splash the only sound. The only signs that something was amiss were the muddy footprints that covered the floor, as if a great rush of people had tried to enter or leave in a big hurry.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," the voice bade, and the doors slid open.

"Where to now?" whispered Ron as they pried themselves out of the box.

"The room I saw Fudge in was pretty big, but not as big as this…" began Harry.

Something dug into his back – something narrow but too big to be a wand. Craning his neck, he saw it was a blaster.

"Don't move," the man holding the weapon barked. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Harry rammed his wand against the stormtrooper's breastplate, but it flew from his fingers and into the hands of a man that entered the room through a suddenly blazing fireplace. Ron and Hermione's wands were similarly confiscated.

"Harry Potter," the Emperor crooned. "So good to meet you. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor speaks most highly of you."

"I knew it!" Hermione shouted. "It was a trap, and Vader was in on it!"

The Emperor smiled, revealing horrible black teeth. "Not a trap, Miss Granger. Not at all. You and your friends are… guests here."

Vader bowed deeply. "I'm surprised to see you here, Master. What is your business here?"

Palpatine gave Vader a disdainful look. "You have yet to figure that out, my apprentice?" He shook his head, a gleeful sneer on his face. "Good stars, I thought you were the most intelligent professor at Hogwarts. I can see now that I overestimated you… _former_ apprentice."

Vader froze halfway through rising from his bow. "Former… what?"

"Yes, my worthless apprentice. You have proven yourself incompetent to serve as the heir to the Sith Order. You are weakened by honor and emotion. However…" and here he smiled wickedly. "I must admit you made an excellent, if unwitting, double agent."

Harry gaped at the Emperor. He'd known that the tyrant had been hiding secrets from his right-hand man, but he hadn't suspected that he'd been playing games with Vader's mind and loyalty!

"Thanks to the information you have provided us through your letters," the Emperor continued, "we were able to hire a bounty hunter in an attempt to capture Harry Potter – though I must admit Boba Fett disappointed me there in turning his loyalties to Dumbledore. And the knowledge that the Rebellion and Dumbledore had joined forces… we cannot thank you enough for that."

Vader was staring at his former master, speechless. Ron looked at Vader with enormous sympathy. Hermione appeared shocked that she had been right – and yet, at the same time, very wrong.

"But I'm afraid that we have no further need for information now that the Ministry of Magic is under my control. You have become… shall we say… superfluous."

Vader's shock seemed to have worn off, and he ignited his lightsaber. But before he could strike at the Emperor, he was thrown backward and onto the floor by a blast of bright blue lightning.

"Professor!" shouted Harry.

The Emperor's grin widened. "No need to worry about him, Harry. My new right-hand man will deal with him. You, however, will come with me."

The stormtroopers herded the three of them toward the blazing fireplace. The flames glowed a brilliant green as a tall hooded figure emerged, red eyes flashing.

Harry's scar throbbed in agony. "Voldemort."

"Harry Potter," Voldemort purred, a sickly smile crossing his pale gray features. "At last we meet again." His gaze traveled to Vader, who was struggling to his feet. "I'll deal with you later, however." He turned to the Emperor. "What do you want me to do with the cyborg?"

"Anything you wish," the Emperor replied. "Simply clean up your mess afterward."

Voldemort gave a deranged grin and turned to Vader. The troopers shoved Harry into the fireplace, preventing him from seeing just what Voldemort intended to do with the Dark Lord.

They emerged from the flames in a dazzlingly lit room, as if the fireplace had merely been a curtain between the Atrium and this chamber. Harry gasped in recognition – he'd seen this room in his dreams, the lights, the shelves of jars…

"Ah, I see you recognize the Room of Prophecy of the Department of Mysteries, Potter," the Emperor said easily, extinguishing the fireplace with a wave of his hand. "Let's have a look around, shall we?"

The three friends were silent as they were escorted down one glittering shelf after another. The Emperor led the way, his black robes trailing him like a slime trail after a slug. Ron had gone totally white; Hermione looked thoughtful, though her eyes were bright with fear. The stormtroopers gave no sign of any emotion, quite differing from Vader's troops.

At one point Harry swore he could hear additional footsteps trailing them, and he was more than a little suspicious when a bell jar containing a glowing white lily rocked dangerously as if accidentally struck with an elbow. Was someone in an Invisibility Cloak stalking the group? He thought Mad-Eye Moody had possessed one… but how could he be sure that was Moody? Could it be a Death Eater? Or someone from the school?

They came to an abrupt halt before a shelf lined with perfectly round glass bottles. The Emperor turned and faced them.

"Now students, who can tell me what is contained in these bottles?"

No one spoke. It was Hermione that finally stammered "P-prophecies."

"Very good, Granger" he replied. "If it were in my power to award points to Gryffindor, I would. Now," he went on, turning to the shelf and scanning its contents, "the Department has charmed each of these bottles to prevent theft. Perhaps someone can identify the charm?"

"D-dunno the name," Ron gulped. "B-b-but Bill told m-me that… that only s-someone mentioned in th-that prophecy can pick it up."

"Not bad, Weasley." He seemed to find what he was looking for – a scrap of paper. "Ah, I see the Ministry of Magic turned this prophecy over to the Jedi Order years ago. No doubt it was destroyed along with the Jedi Temple. What a pity. I sought that particular bottle for… sentimental reasons." He dropped the paper onto the floor.

Harry glanced down. The scrap looked like a label, its paper yellow and its ink faded with considerable age. Quickly he scanned the text:

**G.L. Jr. to G.G., R.R., H.H., and S.S.**

**Jedi Order Chosen One**

Written beneath those words in slightly newer ink was:

**Anakin Skywalker**

But "Anakin Skywalker" had been crossed out, to be replaced with:

**Darth Vader**

"The Chosen One prophecy?" Hermione demanded. "The Department of Mysteries had the Chosen One prophecy?"

"Yes, rather amusing, isn't it?" Palpatine chuckled, still studying the rest of the glass spheres. "The Jedi Council appropriated it somewhere along the line… no doubt kept it locked in a broom closet somewhere, they didn't take too well with prophecies… I thought it might make a nice memento… after all, I doubt Vader will live much longer to see the prophecy come to fruitation… ah, here we are." He stopped before another globe, this one with a much newer label though the globe itself was coated with dust. "Have a look, Potter."

Forcing his feet to carry him forward, Harry stared at the label.

**S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.**

**Dark Lord (?) Harry Potter**

"Me?" breathed Harry, stunned.

"Yes, Potter, you," the Emperor replied. "A prophecy regarding you and Lord Voldemort. Now, if you and your friends would like to leave the Ministry of Magic alive this night, I suggest you remove it from the shelf and give it to me."

"Don't do it, Harry!" hissed Hermione. "It's what Voldemort wants!"

Harry didn't know what else to do. He couldn't let Ron and Hermione suffer… yet if Voldemort got his hands on this, who knew what he would do with it?

"If I give it to you," he said firmly, turning to the Emperor, "you have to promise we all leave the Ministry of Magic alive."

"Of course," Palpatine replied.

"And Vader comes with us," Harry insisted.

The Emperor laughed cruelly. "And why would you want him? After all, he sold you out…"

"Vader lives or no prophecy," Harry ordered.

"You're not in a position to do much bargaining, Potter," the Emperor hissed, and Harry once again felt the muzzle of a blaster in his back. "Now give me that prophecy."

Harry didn't move.

"I mean it, Potter," the Emperor snarled. "I'm going to count to ten, and if the prophecy isn't in my hands by then…" He pointed at Ron. "He dies."

Ron gulped.

"One…"

"Harry, don't do it!" Hermione pleaded.

"Two…"

Sweat crawling down his face, Harry slowly reached for the prophecy.

"That's it, Potter… three…"

His fingers touched it. He'd expected it to feel cool to the touch, but it was surprisingly warm, as if it had been sitting on a sunbathed windowsill.

"Four…"

The jar was resting in his palm now. He turned back to the Emperor, still undecided.

"Five… you're wasting time, Potter… six…"

There was a dull thud like something soft and heavy falling, and the Emperor's head jerked back as if struck. He staggered, and the students' wands fell from his hand with a clatter. Ron wasted no time in scooping them up and handing them to the others.

"Run, Harry!" a harsh gravelly voice ordered.

"Who are you?" demanded Harry, then froze. A head had just appeared in midair – the head of the bounty hunter Boba Fett.

"Go!" he ordered. "No time for questions!"

The muzzle of a sawed-off rifle poked out from under the Invisibility Cloak, and one of the stormtroopers went down with a smoking hole in his chest. Ron screamed.

"C'mon!" Harry ordered, grabbing Ron's arm. As they ran they could hear more blaster fire, the sound of bodies striking the floor, and footsteps as Boba Fett took up the rear end of their flight.

"POTTER!" shrieked the Emperor. "You can't hide from me! I have soldiers all over the Ministry! They'll catch you!"

Hermione blasted fire into the fireplace with her wand. A small satchel of Floo powder hung from the mantel, and Harry flung in a handful.

"The Atrium!" he shouted, and they charged through.

_Break…_

Vader stared after the Emperor as he departed with Harry via the fireplace. It couldn't be. This was all a dream or a sick prank. He couldn't have been dismissed… replaced by Voldemort… it couldn't be true…

"So we meet at last, Vader," Voldemort rasped. "The almighty Dark Lord… or former Dark Lord."

The wizard bent down and picked up Vader's lightsaber, examining it. "Hmm. Some sort of technological wand, I see. Muggles are so clumsy, aren't they? Even their finest works of machinery are poor substitutes to magic." His gaze now rested pointedly on Vader's chest panel. "Poor, poor substitutes."

"All this time…" said Vader quietly. "All this time you'd been working with him…"

"Don't think you weren't warned," Voldemort replied smoothly. "First by Boba Fett, then by Harry and Dumbledore… but you thought yourself the Emperor's prize student, irreplaceable, your power unquestionable. You were a fool, Vader, unwilling to see the evidence before your very eyes. And the Emperor has no place for fools."

It was as if the truth had finally sunk in with a jarring click. He had been betrayed, used, disposed of like a piece of garbage…

But he'd been just as much a traitor as he had been betrayed. He had betrayed the safety of his students in maintaining communication with the Empire. He had played both sides for too long… and the galaxy would feel the dire consequences of his double agency. Dumbledore had impressed upon him that he would have to choose one master or the other to serve, but he had ignored the Headmaster's warning, and in doing so he had wreaked untold damage.

"But you have honor, Vader," Voldemort went on. "And though I despise honor, I do admire a man who can defeat that worthless defector Severus Snape in a duel, even if his honor gets him into trouble afterward." He drew his wand. "Thus, I grant you the privilege of dying with honor… in a wizard's duel."

His hand moved to his wand. If he could deal Voldemort a crippling blow, even if he died in the process, perhaps he could redeem himself.

"We bow first," Voldemort informed him, bending slightly at the waist.

Vader afforded him the slightest inclination of his head.

"Good enough. Now on three. One…"

"_Stupefy!"_ Vader shouted.

The red jet of light bounced off a shimmering pewter shield that Voldemort conjured out of thin air. The man's reptilian features twisted into a feral smile.

"Not bad, Vader. You're learning to fight dirty."

"_Flagrate!"_

Fire burst from Vader's wand and coursed through the air between them, barely deflected by Voldemort's shield.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ the wizard retorted.

Vader dove to avoid the green jet, which struck the Fountain of Magical Brethren and blasted apart the centaur statue's head. Flying shrapnel struck Vader in the ribs, cutting through the leather bodysuit and slicing into his flesh. Agony lashed through him.

"_Serpentsortium!"_

A jet-black snake erupted from Voldemort's wand, and the reptile darted for Vader, jaws wide. He fired a spell at the beast, and it dissolved into ashes.

"You disappoint me, Vader," Voldemort hissed. "I expected better out of you. _Crucio!"_

Vader ducked, and the spell sizzled past his shoulder. He raised his wand to fire another spell, but something knocked him backward and through the doors of a lift. Before he could recover from the Banishing Charm, the doors clicked shut, and the lift carried him down.

_I expected you to be more of a challenge,_ Voldemort said condescendingly. _Really, lesser wizards than you have entertained me more. But no matter. I won't bore myself with the petty details of your death._

"Department of Muggle Relations," a voice chimed, and the lift doors grated open to reveal a dim chamber roughly as large as his classroom at Hogwarts. Wand out, he stepped into the shadows, keeping his senses attuned. Something dark was lurking here, but it didn't seem human… or animal, for that matter… almost as if ghosts haunted this floor. He felt cold, a chill that sank into his bones and penetrated the far reaches of his mind, dredging up feelings of despair and fear…

"_Lumos,"_ he intoned.

The light flaring from his wand revealed the occupants of the room. It took all his strength to hold back a startled shout. Over twenty tall, hooded forms, scabbed and decaying hands protruding from their sleeves, foul-smelling breath rattling from their hoods…

_My most loyal supporters_, Voldemort said proudly. _The dementors of Azkaban, once guards of the wizard's prison – now MY servants. Don't worry, they're quite friendly… they may even give you a little kiss. Goodbye now. Someone will be down later to pick up what's left of you._

He backed toward the lift, but the doors were jammed shut. The dementors drifted toward him with outstretched hands. His chest constricted, it became increasingly difficult to breathe, terror built up inside him like a volcano…

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

A wisp of smoke emerged from his wand. The lead dementor rattled as if laughing derisively at his efforts.

_Concentrate!_ he thought desperately. _Think of Padme, block out all other thoughts…_

But as the dementor neared, all he could think of was fire and lava, of Obi-wan's saber searing his flesh, of the stench of burning skin, of agony and rage and horror…

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

A cloud of vapor this time, enough to make the dementors pause. But the instant it faded they continued to drift purposefully toward him. An inexplicable weakness filled him, he could barely hold onto his wand now…

"_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_

His legs gave out, and he sank to the floor. The lead dementor towered over him, and its rotted hands reached for its hood.

"_Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The hood fell back.


	14. Vader's Patronus

**Chapter 13 – Vader's Patronus**

The Atrium was total bedlam when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Fett entered through the fireplace. Hooded wizards – Death Eaters, Harry realized – and stormtroopers exchanged fire with gray-garbed Rebel troops and members of the Order of the Phoenix. There was no sign of Vader or Voldemort, however.

"Harry!"

He turned to see Luke Skywalker, his sleeve still smoking from a barely missed curse, running toward him, gripping a shimmering green lightsaber.

"Where's Vader?" Luke asked once he'd reached him.

"Dunno," Harry replied. "We left him here."

"He wasn't here when we got to the Ministry," Luke replied.

Dumbledore appeared at Luke's side. "I must commend the Alliance for their quick response," he said as calmly as if they were sitting down to supper in the Great Hall. "If you hadn't appeared at our headquarters when you did, we might have been destroyed."

"Headmaster, who was the traitor?" demanded Hermione.

"Mundungus," Dumbledore replied, the slightest trace of a frown on his lips. "It is unfortunate that I made the error of selecting him as the Order's Secret-Keeper. I erroneously thought that no one, even Voldemort, would suspect him. But I'm afraid Lucius Malfoy employed the use of gold to loosen his tongue, and he divulged our location." He shook his head sadly. "Greed is a powerful tool, and it proved to Voldemort's ally… and Mundungus' undoing. He is beyond our help now."

Hermione gasped. Harry didn't inquire any further, but he had a sickening feeling he knew what the Headmaster was talking about.

"Freeze!"

Dumbledore smiled and turned to face the stormtroopers that had gathered behind him, their weapons trained on their group.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he advised.

"Drop the wand," the lead trooper ordered, "and hands in the air."

"As I said, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dumbledore repeated. "What I would do is look behind you."

"I'm not falling for that gag…" the trooper sneered.

A huge shadow fell over the troopers, and Hagrid's beefy hand came down to grab the hindmost trooper by the shoulder.

"RUDDY COWARDS!" he boomed. "DON' GOT THE GUTS T' FACE DUMBLEDORE 'EAD-ON! 'AVE SOME O' THAT! AN' THAT!"

The troopers flew in all directions, some running for their lives, others going airborne as if they'd just partaken of Fred and George's prototype Flying Fancies. Luke stared at the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, impressed.

"Have you found Percy yet?" asked Ron.

"There has been no sign of him," Dumbledore answered. "But I have an idea…" He went to the still-blazing fireplace and tossed in a pinch of powder. "Department of Muggle Relations."

Greenish flames sprang up. He turned back to the students.

"Take Luke with you – you'll need his aid. Fett, I must ask you to stay here in the Atrium, as we have need of your services." He gave Harry a penetrating look. "With any luck, you can save more than one innocent life tonight."

He nodded.

"Hold on, Percy!" shouted Ron as the four of them entered the fireplace.

The Department of Muggle Relations was totally dark and almost deafeningly quiet compared to the Atrium. By the light of Luke's still-lit saber they could make out shabby cubicles, unlit torches in brackets on the walls, and faded memos tacked to disintegrating corkboards. Everyone in this office appeared to have gone home long ago – unless Voldemort had cleared the department out by simply cursing everyone.

"_Lumos_," Harry whispered. Ron and Hermione followed suit.

Luke extinguished his saber; the wandlight provided enough illumination to see by. They crept quietly down the corridors, keeping their senses peeled.

"Why would Percy be down here?" asked Ron. "This is where Dad works. He hates Dad…"

"He's just survived an attack by Voldemort," Luke replied. "My guess would be that he decided to go someplace familiar and comforting to hide. After all, I really doubt he absolutely hates his own father." He smiled knowingly.

"What did Dumbledore mean, that we can save more than one innocent life?" Hermione asked.

"He probably means Professor Vader," Harry answered.

"Why does he want Professor Vader back anyhow when he betrayed the Order of the Phoenix every bit as much as Mundungus did?" she demanded. "If he keeps recruiting people like Vader and Mundungus into the Order, there won't be much of an Order for long…"

"Oh shut up, Hermione!" Ron retorted. "Vader was duped into it, not like Mundungus…"

A crash came from one of the empty cubicles. Keeping his wand ready, Harry peeked in.

"Oh, thank goodness!" came an all-too-familiar voice. "I thought I was done for! Hurry up before You-Know-Who comes back to finish me off…"

"Fudge!" exclaimed Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Fudge squawked from the floor. He was strapped tightly into a chair, his skin ashen and sweat-soaked, his pinstriped robes torn to shreds, and his bowler hat crushed and perched haphazardly atop his head. The crash had come from his falling to the floor, as he'd probably been rocking back and forth in an effort to loosen his bonds.

"He's still alive?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. "I got the impression that he'd been assassinated."

"Well, if no one comes and helps me out here, that'll be more than an impression!" Fudge wailed frantically. "Hurry! Cut me loose before You-Know-Who gets back!"

Harry hesitated. Why should he save this man? He'd doomed the wizard world through his stupidity, he'd tried his hardest to see Harry expelled that summer, and he'd spearheaded the campaign to discredit Harry and portray him as insane. If they left him for the Death Eaters, no one would be worse off. And yet… wouldn't just leaving him be as bad as simply killing him outright?

He stepped forward, wand outstretched. "I'll untie you on one condition."

"Anything!" Fudge promised, an eager grin on his face.

"You admit that I was right and you were wrong about Voldemort."

Fudge's smile crumbled. "Of all the cheek…"

"Sshh!" Hermione ordered. "Does anyone else hear that?"

Harry listened. Someone in the Department of Muggle Relations was shouting "_Expecto Patronum_" in a half-hysterical voice, as if trying to cast the Patronus Charm and failing each time. With a sickening jolt to the stomach Harry recognized the voice.

"That's Professor Vader!"

"What?" Ron, Hermione, Luke, and Fudge exclaimed at once.

Harry took off running. Fudge bellowed for him to come back, Hermione shouted something he didn't catch, but he ignored them all. There could be only one reason why Vader would be trying to conjure a Patronus – a dementor.

"Where is he?" Luke demanded, running to catch up with Harry.

"This way!" Harry replied, leading him around a corner. A door marked "Lobby" loomed just ahead – Vader had to be in there.

"_Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" he could hear Vader yell.

Then an awful, blood-curdling scream tore through the darkness.

"FATHER!" Luke cried, yanking savagely at the doorknob.

"Move, Luke!" Harry ordered. "_Alohalamora_!"

The door sprang open.

Both of them gasped as if plunged into an ice-cold lake. Goosebumps rose on Harry's skin, and his scar throbbed anew. Dementors packed the inside of the lobby, and those closest to the door now turned to regard the two of them.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" he shouted.

The stag exploded out of his wand, plowing through the crowd like a lawnmower through overly tall grass. The dementors scattered, and now Harry could see Vader at the opposite end of the lobby, lying on the floor as if he'd just passed out, a dementor gently, almost lovingly cradling his masked face in its hands, bending down as if to kiss him…

"Over there!" Harry shouted. "Get it!"

The stag veered toward Vader, catching the dementor in its antlers and throwing it in the air, much as Hagrid had done with the stormtroopers. Another dementor moved in for the kill, and the Patronus kicked it away. Harry grinned. His Patronus had once faced down and driven away hundreds of dementors in one shot…

But that had been in an open field, he realized. Though there were only about twenty here, it was in a tightly enclosed area. The dementors had that much advantage over them.

Slimy hands reached for Harry. He ducked out of the way – only to run into another dementor.

"Luke, get your dad and drag him out of here!" Harry shouted.

Luke darted forward, sidestepping to avoid the eager embraces of the dementors. He ignited his saber and slashed at one, but the weapon seemed to pass through the monster as if it were a ghost. All the while the stag galloped about the room, hard-pressed to keep the dementors away from both its conjurer and the fallen Sith.

"Harry, look out!" Luke shouted.

Ice-cold hands clamped onto his shoulders. He writhed to escape, but froze when a hooded face bent toward his.

_Break…_

He was cold… so cold… his head hurt… all was dark and he didn't care… darkness would be a welcome oblivion after all that had transpired in the last hour…

"Father… father…" The voice was frantic, but it seemed to come from so far away. The nagging thought came that perhaps he should answer, but he brushed it away like an annoying insect. He was so tired… it felt as if he'd been sapped dry of all his energy…

More voices… flashes of memory… Harry's shouts… shouts that intermingled with the death howl of a Tusken Raider… the dry rasp of a dementor… an X-wing bursting into flames… his mother's body going limp in his arms… hoofbeats… glowing lava… the eyes of the Jedi Council boring into him from all sides… a blast of lightning to his chest… more shouts, more screams…

"Father, wake up!"

"Did the dementor get him?"

"I don't know! He won't answer!"

"Keep trying, I can't hold them off forever!"

With tremendous effort he forced his eyes open. A face hung over his own, blurred and indistinct… for a moment he wondered if the dementor had come back to finish him off…

"Father!" the face pleaded, and hands shook him desperately. "Father, answer me!"

Father… it had called him father… his son…

Luke!

Everything snapped into focus – Luke's visage, the shapes of dementors gliding behind him, flashes of silver as Harry's Patronus charged around the room. Luke was here, his son, his and Padme's child, harboring no anger or hatred, only forgiveness…

A shadow loomed behind Luke, extending scabbed hands toward the young Jedi.

Without pausing to think, before any dark memories could resurface, Vader gripped his wand and summoned every ounce of strength at his command.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

A shape burst from his wand – no vapor, no smoke, but a corporeal beast. It ballooned into a silver-white creature that filled the room with scales and horns and leathery wings, delivering an earsplitting roar and swinging its head from side to side. The dementor behind Luke was smashed aside with a flick of its tail, and two more were bowled over with a swipe of its long neck. The rest of the dementors scrambled about madly, bewildered by the appearance of another Patronus, only for claws and teeth to rend at them from every side. The stag, meanwhile, darted around and under the beast, picking off individual dementors while its comrade handled the heavy work.

At last the room emptied as the dementors poured out the door, defeated. The Patronus gave one last triumphant bellow and lowered its gaze to regard the stag.

The stag and the dragon watched each other for a long moment, silent and wary. Luke and Harry stared, Harry showing some measure of pride, Luke with a wondering expression.

Then the stag lowered its magnificent head in a bow. The dragon rumbled and dipped its neck in a similar gesture. The tips of their horns touched in a sort of salute, and at that contact both creatures wavered and dissipated as if they'd never existed.

_The stag and the dragon… Trelawney's damned prophecy…_

Before he could complete that train of thought, exhaustion took its toll, and he blacked out.

_Break…_

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. If Vader could use magic, the dementor hadn't managed to kiss him.

"You're dad's okay," he told Luke. "He's still got his soul."

"What just happened?" Luke demanded, still staring at the spot where the Patronuses had vanished.

"Patronus Charm," Harry explained. "Only way to get rid of a dementor. Looks like your dad finally managed to conjure one."

A shadow appeared in the doorway, and Harry aimed his wand at the intruder. If it was another dementor or a Death Eater…

"Just thought I'd stop in and visit you on my lunch break, Dad," the interloper mumbled in a dreamy sort of voice. "Oh, I'm okay, just got a bit of a headache…"

And Percy Weasley slumped to the floor, smiling vaguely.

"Well," Luke noted, "you found who you were looking for."

Ron and Hermione burst into the room. "You okay?" Ron demanded.

"I'm fine," Harry assured him. "Your brother's not, though, I think he has a concussion…"

Ron knelt by Percy and turned him over, examining him for injuries. Aside from a nicely bruising lump on his forehead, he appeared to be unhurt.

"What happened to him?" demanded Hermione, pointing at Vader. Their Dark Arts teacher was unconscious and bleeding badly from a wound over the ribs.

"Dementor," Harry replied. "Nearly kissed him."

Luke made a face. "That thing wanted to kiss him?"

"That's what it's called when they suck your soul out of your mouth."

His look of disgust intensified. "That's a horrible way to go."

"Galloping gargoyles!" Fudge exclaimed, limping into the room. "Darth Vader's here too?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Ron muttered under his breath.

"Well, jolly good that you captured him, Luke," Fudge said proudly. "I should have realized that he was playing spy for the Emperor all along…"

"I didn't capture him," Luke countered, "and he wasn't a spy."

"We'll see what the Wizengamot has to say about that at his trial…" snarled Fudge.

"The Wizengamot would have some interesting things to say at his trial, I'm sure," Dumbledore said soberly, entering the lobby at that moment. "If the Wizengamot had not been disbanded and half its members killed by Voldemort after you signed the treaty handing the wizarding world over to the Empire."

Fudge stared at Dumbledore as if he'd never seen him before.

"Harry, Luke, I must ask you to carry Percy Weasley into the lift behind you and head straight for the Atrium," Dumbledore told the two young men. "Ron, Hermione, you and I shall escort Fudge out through the fireplace – wands out please, I don't want him bolting on us. Take care, everyone. The battle is still going strong up there."

"What about my father?" asked Luke. "He's hurt…"

"Hagrid's here," Dumbledore replied simply as the enormous man ducked through the doorway. The lobby was getting crowded all over again.

"I got 'im, Harry," Hagrid assured him, bending down and scooping up the body of the former Sith, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. "Inta the lift with ye, I'll squeeze in after ye."

Luke took Percy's shoulders while Harry grabbed his legs, and they hauled him into the lift. Hagrid wedged himself in after them, accidentally knocking Vader's helmet against the doorway with a resounding clang.

"Careful," Luke urged.

"Ah, man wears a helmet," Hagrid theorized. "Time he got some use outa it."

The lift lurched upward, then announced "Ministry of Magic Atrium" and opened its doors. Hagrid was first out, throwing aside two stormtroopers and a startled Death Eater in order to clear a path for Luke and Harry.

"To the Fountain of Magical Brethren!" Dumbledore ordered over the din of the battle. "Everyone grab hold!" He pointed his wand at the golden statue and shouted "_Porteus_!" The entire statue glowed blue and trembled, then settled.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Something sizzled in Harry's ear, and a bizarre creature with a dark red, fish-like head sagged against him and fell at his feet, dish-like eyes wide with terror. He backed away from the alien's body, only for hands to grip his shoulders.

"I told you, Potter," came Lucius Malfoy's sinister drawl, "that you'd someday meet your parents' sticky end. It would seem the day has come for that end."

Harry let Percy's right leg hit the floor as he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand.

"Ah, so you'll go down fighting… AUGH!"

A huge black-furred body smashed into Lucius, snarling in rage and latching onto his weapon-arm with ivory teeth. Lucius tried to shake the dog off, but he only succeeded in firing an ill-timed spell from his wand and setting his own robes on fire.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted. "Let him go! Get to the fountain!"

Sirius gave Lucius' arm one final shake before releasing it and bolting for the fountain, a retaliatory spell nearly searing the fur from his haunches.

The Order of the Phoenix and Alliance soldiers clustered around the fountain, grabbing whatever part of its statuary they could touch. Harry helped Luke drape Percy's limp form over the back of the centaur, then clung tightly to the creature's foreleg. A crush of bodies surrounded him, making it hard to breathe – especially with the stench of sweat and charred cloth permeating everyone's clothing. Mad-Eye Moody pressed him in on one side, Boba Fett on the other, and Ron was clinging to Harry's robes.

"Brace yourselves!" Dumbledore advised. "One!"

"Get them!" came Palpatine's savage order. "Kill them all!"

"Two!"

A dozen blaster bolts and killing curses were sent their way.

"Three!"

Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook jerking just behind his navel, and the Atrium, Death Eaters, stormtroopers, and furious Emperor all vanished in a blur of flying colors. They were flying, shooting forward at an impossible rate…

Then the statue landed with a thud in the courtyard of Hogwarts. Much relieved that the ordeal was over, everyone released the statue and began checking amongst themselves for injuries.

"I must thank everyone for their quick reactions in this situation," Dumbledore announced. "As well as the Alliance for coming to our aid. Now if everyone will help transport the injured to the hospital wing, I'd be much oblidged…"

Harry wanted to collapse on the spot from exhaustion. The night had been so full of danger, revelation, betrayal on all fronts… all this time Vader had been a spy… he'd been writing the Emperor with information regarding Harry and Hogwarts… anger began to flare in his chest…

He noticed Luke's anxious expression, and he followed his gaze. Luke was staring at Hagrid, who was hauling Vader in a fireman carry to the castle. Blood trickled down the moleskin coat from the cyborg's wound, and his breathing had an unhealthy wheeze to it.

The anger died instantly. The Emperor had cruelly used Vader, betrayed him and left him to a hideous fate at the hands of Voldemort's dementors. He was as much a victim as anyone else tonight.

"He'll be okay," Harry assured Luke.

Luke didn't look at him. "All my life, Harry, I'd been told my father was dead. If I lost him again..."

Harry said nothing, though he knew very well what Luke was feeling. He'd experienced it before at the Mirror of Erised, when first conjuring his Patronus, during the duel with Voldemort last year… all those times he'd seen a shadow of his father, and knowing that those shadows had been only temporary illusions was almost worse than having no glimpse whatsoever.

He extended a hand toward Luke, and the young Jedi clasped it gratefully.


	15. Prophecies and Destinies

**Chapter 14 – Prophecies and Destinies**

Wherever there was a clear window or open doorway in Hogwarts, students clustered and gaped, awestruck, at the skies. Never before had they seen the likes of this – flying vehicles that spouted fire and executed intricate maneuvers against the silver-white dawn. Slender concrete-gray ships with four wings swarmed like pixies around a massive white craft, whose outstretched wings and towering "sail" gave it the appearance of a flying Spanish galleon. Squat round ships also darted about the pitched battle, green light lancing from them. Gasps and screams punctuated the amazed silence as shots met their marks and skycraft fell, flaming, to the snowy grounds.

Only later would the full magnitude of what they had just witnessed sink in. The large ship had been a shuttle, and while the Order of the Phoenix had been occupied at the Ministry of Magic, it had evacuated the children of those loyal to Voldemort from Hogwarts. The Alliance's X-wings had battled the shuttle and its accompanying TIE fighters in an attempt to stop its departure, but their efforts resulted only in the deaths of five pilots… and the loss of dozens of students to the machinations of the Empire.

Breakfast that morning was a subdued affair. The Hogwarts Express would be carrying no students home for Christmas this year – it was too dangerous. Everyone ate or simply picked at their food in a heavy silence, apprehensive or even terrified.

Harry surveyed the Hall as he stirred his now-ice-cold scrambled eggs absently. Gryffindor House was still completely intact, no surprise there. Hufflepuff had lost a handful of students to the Emperor's shuttle, Ravenclaw about twenty. And Slytherin… only six Slytherins had been left behind, and these few now clustered in a tight knot at the far end of one table, their stunned expressions indicating that they had no idea why they remained. The rest of the Slytherin table was occupied by Rebel soldiers and members of the Order, as both organizations had now made Hogwarts their headquarters.

Harry dropped his fork and stood. No point in staying here. He wasn't hungry anyhow.

"Where you going?" asked Ron.

"Hospital wing," he replied. "See if Vader and Percy are okay."

"I'll go with you," Ron volunteered, standing.

"Hermione, you coming?" asked Harry.

She didn't look up from determinedly reducing a croissant to shreds. "No."

"Hermione…" began Harry.

"I don't want to see him," she said firmly. "Maybe later… but not now."

They didn't press the issue but left.

The door to the hospital wing was firmly closed. Fred and George were hunkered down before it, their infamous Extendable Ears stuffed under the door.

"Hear anything interesting?" asked Harry.

"Depressing, but yeah, interesting," Fred replied, handing his Extendable Ear to Ron. "Have a listen."

"Right cheerful conversation, makes you want to hide under your bunk," George added, giving Harry his Ear.

They bent down and eavesdropped.

"…lost Shacklebolt, lost Mundungus, lost Ackbar, lost Antilles," Moody was saying grimly. "Tonks and Arthur's boy are going to be laid up awhile, too bad we can't take 'em to St. Mungo's…"

"It's too dangerous," came the regal feminine voice that Harry recognized as Princess Leia. "By now the Empire will have firmly established itself here. Any travel outside Hogwarts will be suicidal."

"What of Snape?" asked McGonagall.

"Be fine once he sheds his skin one last time," Moody replied. "All for the good his transformation was in my opinion, probably would have defected back to the Dark Lord had he been there…"

"Dumbledore trusts Snape implicitly," McGonagall snapped. "He would not have gone back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Don't know that for sure, do we?" sniffed Moody. "An' man's already been wrong once with that Mundungus…"

"And Vader," Leia added. "In my opinion, Vader did far more damage than Mundungus…"

"Vader's case was different, Princess," McGonagall replied. "According to Dumbledore, he had no knowledge that his information was being used against the wizarding world."

Silence for a few minutes.

"Well," Moody said at length, "no use fighting among ourselves now. Best see to the injured, organize the Alliance, send someone to collect Vader's shuttle from London, let Weasley and Potter in…"

The door opened, and Moody's magical blue eye fixed them with an eerie look.

"Um… I'm here to see Percy…" Ron mumbled.

"Come in, Weasley," said Moody, motioning for him to enter. "You, Potter?"

"I wanted to see Professor Vader," he replied.

"Madam Pomfrey released him an hour ago," McGonagall informed him. "He should be in his office."

"Okay." He turned to go.

"Potter?" Moody called.

"What?"

"Give the man the benefit of the doubt, will you?" Moody advised. "He's been through a lot more than you know."

He nodded. "I know."

"And I saw that," Moody growled as Leia rolled her eyes.

Harry left the hospital wing and continued down the corridors, lost in thought. He wondered how Vader was taking all this. Probably not very well. Losing the life he'd lived for over twenty years had to be difficult. And add the burden of guilt and betrayal to that… he must be having a hard time. Maybe Luke was talking to him right now, or Dumbledore…

The door to Vader's office was locked. Harry knocked several times, but there was no answer.

"Professor Vader?" he shouted. "I need to talk to you!"

"He's not there."

He turned to see Peeves hovering cross-legged close to the ceiling, liberally smearing ink onto a stolen crystal ball from the Divination classroom.

"What do you mean, he's not there?" demanded Harry.

"I mean he's not there," Peeves replied matter-of-factly. "Packed his things and left ten minutes ago. Lasted half a term, pretty short time even for a Dark Arts professor…"

"He's leaving!"

"Thick, are we, Potter? Leaving Hogwarts, never coming back, so long, bye-bye…"

"Which way did he go?"

Peeves pointed down the corridor. "Took a left at the painting of the mad knight."

"Thanks, Peeves!" He took off at a run. "Professor!"

Skidding around the corner, he continued to run, glancing down each passageway for a glimpse of Vader. He couldn't be leaving! Not now! The Empire had cast him out; he had no place to go outside Hogwarts. Where would he go? And what if the Empire caught him again?

"Professor Vader! Professor Vader, wait up!"

At last he spotted Vader down the entrance hall, and he lengthened his stride to catch up with him. Vader carried a black traveling valise, and judging from his rapid pace, he wanted to get out of the castle in a hurry. Harry realized that he'd never catch up with the man before he stepped out of those doors forever. How could he stop him?

Pulling his wand, he shouted "_Diffindo!"_

The suitcase's latch popped off, and the contents spilled all over the flagstones. Vader whirled to stare at the tangle of broken luggage, spare cloaks and gloves, and mechanical odds and ends. When he caught sight of Harry, he froze.

"Potter, what do you think you're…" he snarled.

"Professor Vader, you can't go!" Harry exclaimed.

Vader dropped the broken valise. "That is not for you to decide, Potter. It is my decision, and mine alone, to make. Now go."

"Where will you go?" demanded Harry. "The Empire's taken over the wizarding world! They'll kill you the minute they see you! And the Muggles'll think you're some kind of freak or nutcase and probably lock you up somewhere!"

"There are other worlds than this, Potter," Vader replied. "The galaxy is vast. There will be somewhere that I can live out my remaining years in peace." He stared at a point past Harry, a faraway tone coming to his voice. "Not that I deserve that…"

"Professor, we need you here," Harry countered. "You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had! And Luke needs you too."

"Luke…" he murmured. "I've never given Luke any reason to care about me. I cut off his hand, I killed his Jedi Master, I tortured his friends… he doesn't need me. And if I'm the best Dark Arts professor you've had, the others must have been ridiculously incompetent. A proper teacher would not have placed his students in danger…"

"You didn't know the Emperor was playing you for a fool!" Harry shouted. He didn't know why he was doing this, why he didn't just let Vader go and have done with it. Something deep inside him told him that, were Vader to leave the school, there would be no hope for correcting this mess the wizarding world found itself in.

He glowered at Harry. "You're right, Potter. I am a fool. The greatest fool this galaxy has seen. I ignored the warnings of you, Dumbledore, and Luke. I denied the evidence that was continually thrust in my face, believing myself too smart to be taken advantage of. My foolish actions have damned your world. Hogwarts has no need to keep a fool on its payroll."

"But Professor…"

"Don't argue with him, Harry," someone advised from behind him. "He has the infamous Skywalker stubborn streak – the more you fight with him, the more adamantly he sets himself against you."

Dumbledore stepped up beside Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving Vader a look of profound sympathy.

"I'm leaving, Headmaster," Vader told him bluntly. "I've put your students in danger. You have no more need of me. You'll find my letter of resignation on your desk."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Vader." He flicked his wand at the valise, and it snapped shut with a clap, its contents flying back inside it as if it were bursting open in reverse. "I expect to see you back at work at the end of the Christmas holiday."

"You cannot stop me from going!" hissed Vader.

"I understand, Vader, that this has been an ordeal for you," Dumbledore replied softly. "But this is not entirely your fault. The Ministry of Magic shares a great deal of the blame, as do the minions of the Empire. And while I expect many things of my faculty, I do not expect them to be omniscient. Anyone could have been deceived as you were, even me."

Vader bent down and picked up the suitcase. "Fine. I will remain at Hogwarts. But don't expect me to be happy about it."

Dumbledore's expression of pity intensified. "I think, Vader and Harry, that you need to come with me. It's time I told the two of you a few things that you should have known a long time ago."

Vader stared at Harry as if demanding an explanation. Harry shrugged. He didn't know what Dumbledore was up to either. Puzzled but curious, the two of them followed the headmaster.

After a long walk, they came to a familiar corridor – the corridor where, three years ago, Harry had discovered Filch's cat petrified by the stare of a basilisk (though he hadn't known it then) and a cryptic message regarding the Chamber of Secrets inscribed on the wall. Without pause Dumbledore strode to a nearby doorway, stepped easily over a growing puddle on the floor, and opened the door.

"Headmaster, that's the girl's bathroom," Vader said distastefully.

"I know," Dumbledore replied. "But no one ever comes in here, so we'll be safe."

"Headmaster," Harry said warily, realizing what Dumbledore must be intending, "we're not going…"

"I thought," he replied, "that Vader might want to know precisely what we're up against."

The bathroom floor was covered with a good two inches of water, seeing as every tap had been turned on full-blast and then the handles pried off. The culprit could be heard sobbing in one of the toilet stalls. Harry wondered just what had set off Moaning Myrtle this time.

"Oh my, this won't do," Dumbledore said fretfully. "_Repairo!"_

The faucet handles reappeared. Harry set himself to turning off the taps.

At the sounds of voices in her bathroom, Myrtle drifted out of her stall, her glasses askew and her eyes red and swollen from constant crying. She sniffed loudly and pouted when she spotted Harry.

"About time you came back," she moped. "You promised me you'd visit me ages ago, I've been waiting all term…"

But when she caught sight of Vader, her high-pitched whimpering escalated to a screech of fright, and she dove headfirst back down her toilet.

"Wow, that was pretty cheerful for Myrtle," Harry noted.

"Let's leave Myrtle alone for now," Dumbledore told him. "Harry, will you open the door?"

Reluctantly Harry went to the faucet with the serpent emblazoned on it – a mark that was almost invisible unless one knew precisely what they were looking for. He focused, trying to imagine the serpent was alive and listening.

"Open," he hissed.

The entire fixture sank into the floor, leaving a gaping hole in the floor. Harry jumped down first, followed by Vader. After a few minutes, Dumbledore joined them, his wand glowing.

"What is this place?" Vader inquired.

"The passageway to the Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore replied. "A room constructed by Salazaar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… and a firm believer that the only wizards worth recruiting were those of pure blood. This chamber was supposedly only accessible by his heir, though in recent years we've found that any Parselmouth – that is, anyone who can speak to snakes – can gain entrance."

"I gathered as much," Vader replied dryly as they passed the enormous snakeskin.

"Slytherin kept a monster down here," Dumbledore went on as they continued. "A basilisk, a giant snake that kills with its very gaze. It was foretold that his heir would open the chamber and release the beast, which would purge Hogwarts of those unworthy in Slytherin's eyes to become wizards."

"Muggle-borns," Harry added.

At last they reached the chamber itself. Everything was black and damp, the faint light issuing from Dumbledore's wand reflecting from the moist snake-carved stonework and the towering statue of a seated man. In the center of the chamber lay the skeleton of the basilisk, picked clean by time and rats. Vader approached the bones cautiously and ran a hand along the length of one ivory fang.

"This is the aborted legacy of Slytherin?" he asked. "A dead monster and an abandoned chamber?"

"No," Dumbledore replied. "Far from it. For though the Chamber of Secrets no longer harbors danger toward our school, Slytherin's heir lives on… Lord Voldemort."

Vader turned to face Dumbledore.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle was one of Hogwart's brightest students," Dumbledore explained. "Though an orphan and a half-blood, he learned very quickly, and he was a favorite student of many teachers. But he knew of his relation to Salazaar Slytherin, and he quickly immersed himself in the Dark Arts, becoming the most feared of all wizards… Lord Voldemort."

"Until Potter defeated him," Vader replied.

Dumbledore shook his head. "There is far more to the story than that."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sat down on a slab of broken marble, removing something from his robes and rolling it absently around in his hands. Harry recognized it as the prophecy he had taken from the Ministry of Magic, which he had turned over to Dumbledore last night.

"The story begins over a thousand years ago, soon after Hogwarts was established," he began. "The Jedi Council of the time was paying a visit to the school, for at that period of time the Republic had not yet cut off ties with our world. The Jedi wanted to observe the wizards' teaching methods, and the founding wizards of Hogwarts wanted the Jedi's endorsement for their school.

"During the visit, a student appeared in their midst – a student from the future named George Lucas, Jr. He had been illegally experimenting with a Time-Turner, a device that allows wizards to travel back and forth in time. He was delivered a stern lecture from founding father Godric Gryffindor, and they ordered him to depart for his own time at once."

Dumbledore pulled a second prophecy from his robes, rubbing the dust from the glass. "At that moment, the young Lucas delivered a prophecy – a prophecy of a Chosen One."

"You mean… you've had the prophecy all this time…" Harry breathed.

"I was quite friendly with Master Yoda," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "During the Clone Wars he approached me and delivered this. He feared the Jedi Temple would be in danger of attack, and he wanted to ensure the record of this prophecy remained safe." He twisted the glass sphere, and it came apart in two neat halves.

A ghostly image of a young, dark-haired man drifted upward like a Patronus, its voice young and cracking with adolescence but still resonant and strong with the tone of one making prophecy.

"_THE SON OF THE SUNS SHALL BE BORN OF THE MIDICHLORIANS… AND HE WILL HAVE POWER OVER THE FORCE THAT NONE HAS EVER SEEN… AND BOTH SIDES OF THE FORCE SHALL BOW TO HIS WILL… HE SHALL BE A CHOSEN ONE, ONE WHO BRINGS BALANCE TO THE FORCE… A BANE TO THE DARKNESS AND A BANNER TO THE LIGHT… THE CHOSEN ONE SHALL BE BORN TO A MORTAL AND TO THE FORCE…"_

The figure drifted back into the sphere, and Dumbledore closed it.

"Sound familiar, Vader?"

Vader bristled with fury.

"Lucas was, of course, sent back to his time, where he made a fortune from his Seer gift in the Muggle world. Meanwhile, the wizards kept the prophecy on file, though they never made much sense of it, and in the end they turned it over to the Jedi Order – after all, it pertained more to them than it did to our world. But then, during the war against Voldemort, a second prophecy came to light.

"On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, I was interviewing an applicant for the post of Divination teacher in a room above the bar of the Hog's Head Inn. The applicant was a relative of Lucas' and a descendant of the gifted seer Cassandra Trelawney, and I thought it common politeness to meet with her. But she didn't appear to have a trace of the gift. I told her that I did not think she would be suitable for the post and turned to go."

Harry and Vader watched, fascinated, as Dumbledore opened the second sphere. A figure rose from it, draped in shawls and beads, her eyes weirdly magnified by her round spectacles.

"_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LOARD APPROACHES… BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES… AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES… THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…"_

Harry gaped as the figure of Professor Trelawney was shut away again.

"The Prophecy was referring to Potter, I presume?" asked Vader.

"The funny thing is," Dumbledore replied, "that the prophecy could have applied to two boys born at the end of July, two boys born to parents who had escaped Voldemort's wrath three times. One was Harry Potter. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"So it might not be me?" asked Harry. "It might be…"

"There is no doubt that the prophecy speaks of you, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "Voldemort marked you as his equal, not Longbottom."

"And why did he intentionally mark Potter as his equal?" demanded Vader.

"That was not his intention," Dumbledore answered. "His intention was to destroy Harry before he became powerful enough to face Voldemort. But Voldemort's information was incomplete. The Hog's Head is not a place where you should assume you're safe from being overheard. Our one stroke of good fortune that night was that Voldemort's spy was discovered a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Why me? Why not Neville? Why did he think it will be me?"

"Think about it," Dumbledore replied. "Voldemort decided that the greater threat was, not the pureblood, which he professes to be the only worthy sort of wizard, but the half-blood like himself, the boy whose father was a wizard and his mother a Muggle-born. He saw himself, in some measure, in you, and he sought to destroy you – but in doing so he mistakenly transferred a measure of his own power and spirit into you."

Harry's hand reached up and touched his scar. "You mean… he made it so I can tell how he's feeling… when he's rising to power again…"

Dumbledore nodded. "You might wonder what these prophecies have to do with each other, aside from the fact that the Seers who delivered them are blood relatives. Until very recently, I, too, believed them to be separate matters. But scarcely two months ago, I became aware of another development… a third prophecy, one that links the two." He smiled at Vader. "But as I did not hear the prophecy with my own ears, I rely on you, Vader, to inform Harry of it."

Vader glared silently at the Headmaster.

"Vader," Dumbledore said firmly, "please tell us of the prophecy."

He spun on his heel and strode away several paces. Back to the others, he spoke in a resentful, monotone voice.

"'The Dark Lords have united… as the tenth month is born the Dark Lords unite in their cause… and the Chosen One will find himself betrayed and betrayer… the Empire will rise and threaten what the wizards hold most dear… and the stag and the dragon must join forces else be slain by the Dark Lords… the Chosen Ones must unite as the Dark Lords have or all will be lost.'"

"Thank you," Dumbledore told him. "Parts of that prophecy have already come true. Two Dark Lords, Voldemort and Palpatine, have joined forces. Darth Vader, the Chosen One, unknowingly betrayed Hogwarts and was, in turn, betrayed by his master. As for the strange animal references…"

"The dragon's Vader," Harry realized. "His Patronus is a dragon!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Harry is the stag. Vader is the dragon. Alone, perhaps you could accomplish your separate prophecies, but now that the Dark Lords have united, it would be impossible for you to fight your battles alone. The only way you can defeat the heir of Slytherin and the Sith Order is by joining forces yourselves."

Vader slumped to his knees.

"Professor?" Harry hurried to Vader's side.

"Trelawney," he snarled. "She was right all along. The woman who caused me great trouble was no other than Sybill Trelawney. The Chosen One Prophecy ruined my life. I want nothing further to do with it or any other prophecy!"

"I understand that this is hard for you," Dumbledore said with utmost sympathy. "You've not had an easy life. But Harry has also known great hardship in his young life, and I'm sure he can identify with your plight."

There was silence in the chamber for a long time. Vader's respirator echoed hauntingly off the stone walls, and a steady drip of water punctuated the quiet with its rhythmic plunk.

"Talk to him, Harry," Dumbledore urged.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What could he say? His mind was still spinning, reeling from the fact that he was spoken of in prophecy not once, but twice… and that his life would either end in or include murder.

"Professor," he blurted, "I'm sorry."

Vader didn't turn to acknowledge Harry.

"I know… I know it must've been hard, getting called the Chosen One all your life and having everyone keeping their eye on you," Harry went on. "I know how that feels. And I know it's got to hurt, knowing someone you trusted just stabbed you in the back. But maybe… maybe this is a chance for you to start over. To start doing something to repay."

Dumbledore nodded at Harry, winking. "The boy's right, Vader. Being known as the Boy Who Lived or, worse, a delusional glory-hound has been hard on Harry. But I'm impressed with him, as he's felt no anger toward you even knowing full well who you are. He is the greatest ally you can know."

Vader slowly got to his feet, turning to face the two of them.

Harry extended a hand. "Are we going to be partners?" he asked. "Face down Voldemort and your nutcase Emperor together?"

He hesitated, then clasped Harry's hand in his own. "Very well, Potter. Partners."

"Harry," he corrected.

Vader nodded. "Harry."

Dumbledore motioned for them to follow him. "Come now, you two. We have much to do. Vader, Luke and Mr. Weasley will be bringing your shuttle and men back. We'll need the expertise of your stormtroopers in teaching us wizards how to use those blasters of yours."

"Part of the prophecy concerns me, Headmaster," Vader said. "'The Empire will rise and threaten what the wizards hold most dear.' What do the wizards hold most dear?"

Dumbledore turned and gave him a grave look. "What do most adults hold most dear, Vader?"

Harry's mouth fell open. "You mean…"

_Break…_

Corusant's Imperial Square glowed first red, then violet, then golden, then green as fireworks exploded in the night sky, fireworks interspersed with leprechaun formations, TIE formations, and broom flyovers. The Square roared and swarmed with wizards and Imperials, all in high spirits as they celebrated the induction of the wizard's world into the Galactic Empire. On a raised platform at the head of the square stood over a hundred young wizards, all in crisp black robes with an insignia on the breast – an insignia portraying the silver Imperial Crest with a green serpent twined through it.

Emperor Palpatine and Lord Voldemort gazed over the ranks of children appreciatively. The sons and daughters of those true to Voldemort's cause had been rescued from the traitorous Hogwarts, to be trained in a proper school of magic to be established on Corusant. The first generation in the Imperial School of Dark Arts would serve the Empire well.

Young Draco Malfoy beamed from the front row, and the Emperor smiled knowingly at the lad. This one showed considerable promise. Perhaps, with Voldemort occupied with subjugating the wizarding world, he could spend a little time educating this one in the Sith ways. After all, now that the Sith were in total control, the could disregard the "always two" rule, couldn't they?

He turned to those assembled and raised his hands to silence the crowd.

"Citizens of planet Earth, wizards and witches, people of the Empire!"

The crowd bellowed in reply.

"This is a day to be long remembered," he went on. "It has seen the end of the weak government that has ruled your society for years, and it has seen the ascension of a great and glorious power that will carry into your future!"

He swept a hand behind him to indicate the students. "Your children, a generation that would have seen itself smothered under the hands of the likes as Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore, will receive training in the glorious powers long denied your people. They will carry on in our stead when we pass on, and they will achieve things that would have been impossible a mere twenty-four hours ago.

"This is not to say the danger is over, my friends. For a great evil lurks in your land – an evil that would undermine this dream for the future and turn the world over to the weak, the inferior, the ones you call Mudbloods and half-bloods."

The crowd hissed.

"Twenty years ago, the Empire purged itself of a similar evil in the form of the Jedi Order, cleansing our society of their taint. Now, on this day, I say we rise and excise this new taint from our lives, this cancerous establishment that will destroy all we have worked so hard to build. Let us destroy the old and build the new, to rid our children of the pestilence that has infected our own lives.

"Let it be known, from this day forth, the Galactic Empire declares war upon the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and all who would ally themselves with it!"


	16. The Vanishing of the Dursleys

**Chapter 15 – The Vanishing of the Dursleys**

Dumbledore surveyed the Great Hall quietly, a great weight forming in his chest. So it had come to this. At long last, a second war would be waged with Lord Voldemort. And this time, Voldemort had an ally far more powerful than anyone could fathom.

Everyone stared up at the headmaster expectantly. It had been an incredibly cheerless holiday, and the depression and fright showed in every student's face. The Alliance soldiers over at the former Slytherin table had expressions of weary acceptance – they'd been fighting a civil war for years; why should a wizard war be any different? The sky was slate-gray with storm clouds, as if the elements had conspired with the prevalent emotions to create an atmosphere of impending doom. Even Peeves and the Weasley twins, normally endless vaults of mischief and humor, had been remarkably quiet over the Christmas holiday.

_At least magic is on our side,_ Dumbledore thought. _We have two Chosen Ones fighting for our cause. As long as Harry and Vader continue fighting as a partnership, we cannot give up hope._

He had gathered everyone together – students, faculty, Rebels, High Command, Order members, even the ghosts and poltergeist – for a special meeting, one that he hoped would restore some measure of morale.

"Students and teachers of Hogwarts, fellow wizards, and friends of the Alliance," Dumbledore announced, "thank you for coming together today."

He let his gaze sweep the room. "At the end of our last term at Hogwarts, I warned our students that great evils would soon sweep the land, that Voldemort had returned and killed one of our own… and that we must learn to stand together if we were to defeat this great evil. Many of you did not understand what I was talking about, or were told that I had lied to you or was losing my mind. Others of you may have simply forgotten what I have stated, thinking it trivial.

"Now, more than ever, we see a need to unite, to cooperate, to put our past prejudices and bigotry aside and stand together. A great Muggle of old – whose name slips my mind, though I believe he may have been an American president – once said 'A house divided cannot stand.' His words apply to wizardkind as well as to his people. If we allow the brands of 'pure-blood,' 'Muggle,' or 'Rebel' to drive us apart, that makes it all the easier for our enemies to destroy us one by one.

"I ask all of you, wizard and Muggle alike, to forget past affiliations and biases. Some among us are divided by the boundaries of our Hogwarts Houses, be they Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Slytherin. Others have been brought up to consider Muggle-borns, half-bloods, or pure-bloods as inferior or as foes. Still others once served the enemy and have turned their allegiances, but may not be entirely free of suspicion.

"Let us forget these dividing lines from this point onward. Let us eliminate the competition between the houses, however good-spirited it may be. Let us accept as our own those whose pasts may be less than immaculate. Let us dismiss past hatreds and enmities. Let all be equal, be they full-blood, half-blood, Muggle, Rebel, former Imperial, Jedi, Sith, or ghost."

The students glanced from table to table, as if trying to pick out friends from the other houses. The half-dozen remaining Slytherins squirmed in their seats, as if sickened at the thought of mingling with Muggles. The Rebels glanced uncomfortably at the stormtroopers that still dotted the room. More than one wary eye was turned to the staff table, where Vader was exchanging glares of contempt with Snape.

"Palpatine and Voldemort's greatest ally is discord. If they can divide us, we are doomed. If they can foster hatred among us, all our efforts will be in vain. If we cannot stand together and trust one another implicitly, we will fall. But if we unite as one, nothing – absolutely nothing – can destroy us.

"That said, welcome back from the Christmas holiday."

_Break…_

If the students thought the approaching war with the Empire would mean less of a workload, they were sorely mistaken. A collective groan filled the classroom when Professor McGonagall announced that the O.W.L.S. were by no means cancelled that year.

"The Ministry can't send examiners, why do we still have to take the stupid exams?" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

"No talking, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall ordered. "Despite the… political troubles currently developing, life must go on as normally as possible. That includes your studies."

But there were many signs that life at Hogwarts would never go entirely back to normal – at least not this year. For one thing, Rebel guards prowled the grounds constantly, on the guard for any suspicious activities. Surprisingly, there were few attempts to hassle the Rebels as the stormtroopers had been tormented, though the Weasleys had introduced them to the dangers of the Skivving Snackboxes early on. Maybe the fact that they weren't required to wear armor made them appear more human, or maybe Dumbledore's speech about unity had managed to sink in.

The day after the Christmas holiday, Vader and Dumbledore herded the stormtroopers into an empty classroom and locked the door. No one knew what exactly transpired during that meeting – though a few students reported mysterious screechings and explosions as they passed by – but by the time the troopers left the room, they had pledged their loyalty to the Alliance.

Defense Against the Dark Arts classes became more strenuous than ever, with countercurses and battle spells being highly emphasized. What more, a special bi-weekly Muggle Weaponry course was made mandatory for all students fifth year and over. The Quidditch pitch had been transformed into a blaster-shooting range, with Rebel and stormtrooper officers educating the students on proper firing and elementary blaster safety. Harry had to admit he was a horrible shot, and that no amount of practice would improve that much.

Boba Fett, who Harry found out had been hired by Dumbledore to keep an eye on Harry, seemed to have become a bodyguard of sorts, following Harry through the halls and glaring balefully at anyone who so much as looked at him funny. Evidently he took his duties quite seriously – probably because there was a lot of gold at stake if Harry came to any harm. But when Hermione showed him a copy of the Daily Prophet (now the Imperial Reporter) one day, he became thankful for Fett's presence.

"Enormous bounties have been placed on the heads of anyone and everyone affiliated with either Dumbledore or the Rebellion," she told him over lunch, handing him the Reporter.

"Whoa," he breathed, looking at the article. It showed photographs of several of the Hogwarts professors and Rebels, with reward amounts listed beneath each picture. The largest photos showed him and Professor Vader, with the bold caption _Harry Potter and Darth Vader – Dead or Alive – 5 million Galleons Apiece._

"Dumbledore's the next highest with three million," Ginny noted, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Then it's Luke Skywalker with two million – but he's wanted alive – and Snape and Trelawney with one million. Tonks, Sirius, McGonagall, Leia, Solo, Chewbacca, and Hagrid are all a million too… Ron! Dad's on here!"

"What?" exclaimed Ron, his flagon of pumpkin juice spreading rapidly over the tablecloth.

"Five hundred thousand Galleons, dead or alive," Harry replied.

Fett skimmed the article over Harry's shoulder, then snorted. "Dumbledore'd better heighten security around Hogwarts, then. Every hunter from here to Imperial Center'll be flocking to his school like carrion beetles to a rotting bantha corpse."

"Lovely analogy, Fett," groaned Dean Thomas, suddenly highly disinterested in his lunch.

"Muggles can't find Hogwarts without having a Clarity Charm placed on them or drinking a Clarity Draught," Hermione replied. "It's impossible for a Muggle to just happen along Hogwarts by accident, and I highly doubt Voldemort's going to give potions to every bounty hunter in the galaxy."

"But Fett's a hunter," Ron pointed out. "Why doesn't he nab one of us and turn us in for…"

"I never quit in the middle of an assignment," Fett replied evenly. "I have a contract with Dumbledore to guard Harry until the end of the school term. Once summer comes…" He shrugged. "We'll see if he's willing to extend the contract." He strolled off.

Fred grinned. "Ah, he just likes to play tough. He's not that bad a guy once you get to know him."

Toward the end of January, the expected Imperial invasion had not yet occurred, but the guard around Hogwarts was by no means relaxed. On the contrary, on the thirtieth of the month Dumbledore announced at breakfast that the parents and/or guardians of every student would be staying at the school until further notice.

"Well, we can be glad Malfoy's gone then," Ron said cheerily. "At least we won't have to put up with his greasy dad."

"I hope my parents take it all right," Hermione said warily. "Especially my dad. He's likely to maul Luke or Vader and demand autographs the moment he sees them."

Harry groaned. If Hermione's Muggle parents were coming to Hogwarts, then that most likely meant the Dursleys would also be making the trip, quite probably against their will. And after Dudley's dementor attack this summer, they were bound to be on nasty terms with him and with magic in general.

But he was in for a horrible shock when the doors to the Great Hall swung open the next day to admit a deluge of hysterical parents and relatives, crying and hugging their children and babbling uncontrollably.

"So you're Harry," Mr. Granger greeted enthusiastically, shaking his hand. "Herm's told us a lot about you."

"Hi Mr. Granger," Harry replied.

"So where's this Dark Arts professor of yours?" he went on with the eagerness of a child at Christmas, forgetting about Harry almost immediately. "Your letters said something about Darth Vader coming to your school…"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry left the Granger family and scanned the crowd again, looking for a familiar face in the mob. Neville was enduring a critical examination from his grandmother, Ron was looking desperately at him from the midst of his anxious brothers and parents, a very tall witch was sobbing hysterically into a disgusted-looking Lee Jordan's shoulder…

"Looking for your aunt and uncle, Harry?" asked Sirius, coming to stand beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry shrugged. "Curious, I guess. If Dumbledore managed to drag them here, it'll be a miracle."

Sirius gave a funny smile. "Harry, they're your aunt and uncle. And no matter how horribly they've treated you in the past, I know that you still care somewhat about them. They're your family, like it or not. And ties of blood are not easily broken."

"This from the man who spent all summer complaining about his demon mother and evil relatives," Harry shot back.

Sirius opened his mouth to fire off a retort, but when none was forthcoming, he just gave a weak, sheepish laugh.

A stormtrooper wrangled his way through the crowd at the door and stood at attention before Vader, speaking in a hushed tone. Vader listened attentively, glanced at Harry a moment, then nodded and informed the man he could leave.

"Something wrong, Professor?" asked Sirius as Vader approached.

"Regarding your aunt and uncle, Harry," Vader said with an acknowledging nod at the Animagus. "My men and Auror Tonks were sent to retrieve them."

"And they didn't want to come?" Harry finished.

"No. There was no sign of them. Their house appears to have been deserted for some time. Their car is gone, but no other possessions are missing, which rules out a vacation of any kind."

Harry stared at him. "Are you sure? Maybe they just went out for dinner…"

"There is more, Harry. Tonks questioned your neighbor, Mrs. Figg. She says they have been missing since Christmas. Their car was found abandoned in a parking lot in London. The police have found no evidence of foul play, but other than that they have found nothing to indicate they are still alive." He waited a moment, as if wondering whether to proceed. "They also checked your cousin's school. He has not returned from the school holiday, and all attempts to contact his parents have been unsuccessful."

"How could three Muggles just vanish off the face of the earth?" demanded Sirius.

Harry only gaped at Vader. All his life he'd thought that if anything ever happened to the Dursleys, he wouldn't be sorry – after all, it would be about time the miserable lot got their just desserts. But he couldn't bring himself to gloat or feel any sort of satisfaction. Instead, to his surprise, he felt only a leaden sense of dread in his gut.

_Break…_

Vernon Dursley leaned back in his seat and sighed blissfully. Fate certainly worked in mysterious ways. One day, he'd been slaving away in his stuffy, sweltering office performing the most deadly dull work in the world (never mind that he'd told everyone that he loved his job all these years); the next day, his family had been chosen for a great honor… by no less than the Emperor.

Petunia dozed in the seat beside him, her high-pitched snore earning glares from the Imperial shuttle's other occupants. Dudley, sitting several rows away, shot her a Mom-you're-embarrassing-me look that lost most of its effect, seeing as its recipient was asleep. Vernon retorted with a sit-down-and-act-like-the-soldier-you-are glower that did nothing whatsoever to restrain his son but made him feel better nonetheless.

Vernon let his thoughts drift back to that day that had improved his son's fortunes. It had all started on the Christmas holiday, when he'd taken his family to a fancy restaurant in London to celebrate the season. Things had gone normally for a while – Vernon had been berating the staff for their slow service, Petunia had been eavesdropping on any conversation she could, and Dudley had been gorging himself on his meal. Nothing had indicated that their lives were about to change forever.

Until that strange man had come to their table…

_"Good evening, Mr. Dursley," the hooded man told him in a pleasant tone. "May I sit here?"_

_Vernon glared at the man suspiciously. He looked disturbingly like some of Harry's misfit magic lot – at least, what Vernon saw of him did, which wasn't more than a hood, a robe, and black gloves._

_"Who are you, and what do you think gives you the right to barge into our private dinner uninvited?" Vernon demanded._

_"My dear Mr. Dursley, if you think you can brush me off by parading your bullheadedness around like a banner, you're sorely mistaken," the man replied smoothly, pulling up a chair from a vacant table and having a seat between Petunia and Dudley._

_"Shamelessly rude, isn't he?" Petunia whispered, deliberately loud enough for the stranger to overhear._

_"How dare you!" bellowed Vernon. "Get away from our table!"_

_"I don't think I've properly introduced myself," the man went on. "My name is Admiral Thrawn."_

_"Oh… uh… what I meant to say is… step away from the table and let me find you a more comfortable chair… and clear up a space for you… I'll buy you a drink, or dinner if you'd like… waiter? WAITER!"_

_Thrawn waved his hand dismissively. "No thank you, my friend. I just ate."_

_"Dudley, why don't you take this man's cloak for him?" Vernon suggested, never once thinking it odd that an officer in the British Navy would be wearing such a ridiculous garment in public._

_Dudley glared at his father as if he'd suggested he invite Harry to dinner._

_"No need, no need," Thrawn replied. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Dursley. Though now that you call my attention to your son, I'm reminded that young Dudley here is the precise reason I came to meet you."_

_Dudley's glare changed to a look of astonishment._

_"Our Dudley?" Petunia exclaimed happily. "You mean Her Majesty's Royal Navy has taken an interest in our Dudders… I mean… Dudley…"_

_Thrawn hesitated, then enjoyed a little laugh. "My apologies, my friends. There has been a misunderstanding. You see, I'm not an Admiral in the British Navy, as I presume you assumed. Rather, I'm an officer in the Imperial Starfleet."_

_It took Vernon a moment to process that comment. "What do you mean the Imperial Starfleet?" he inquired. "I didn't know Her Majesty had commissioned a space program…"_

_"If your Muggles' Royal Highness has established such a program, it is beyond my knowledge," Thrawn answered. "I do not work for the British Empire, Mr. Dursley, but for the Galactic Empire, for the glory of the Emperor."_

_Dudley gave a squeak of terrified recognition._

_"What do you… oh, I see. You're a friend of Harry's, and this is some monstrous joke. Well, it's not funny, you can leave off now… good heavens!"_

_For Admiral Thrawn had pulled his hood back just enough to let them see his face – a handsome and very commanding face, but sapphire blue with shimmering red eyes. Petunia shrieked, and Dudley's mouth fell open like some gaping cavern._

_"The Empire has been informed that the people of your world are familiar with our ways, thanks to something called… what was it? Oh yes, 'Star Wars.' Well, you can imagine our surprise there, but really, it has worked out for the best. For it has made it all the easier for us to do some… recruitment."_

_"What do you mean?" demanded Vernon. "Recruitment for what?"_

_"For a war against Hogwarts."_

_That caught his attention. "H-hogwarts? That… that wizard school?"_

_Petunia's shriek reached a level audible only to dogs. "War with… why?"_

_"Because the school has become a base of operations for a hideous organization that seeks to overthrow the Empire… and quite possibly take over your world as well."_

_Rage boiled within Vernon. He'd known that wizards were nothing but trouble, and now here was proof! Harry must be part of this plot – why else would he have gotten Dudley into trouble this summer and be constantly wreaking havoc? Wizards weren't just bizarre, they were traitors to the crown! He wondered just how long they had been plotting this…_

_"You are a loyal citizen of England, Dumbledore," Thrawn went on. "And you have a fine boy here." He nodded at the still-gaping Dudley. "I offer you a chance to serve England and the Empire, to help us crush the threat that arises from Hogwarts… and the chance to better your son's future. I offer him an opportunity to join the Imperial Army."_

_"You mean become a stormtrooper?" Dudley asked, finding words at last._

_"There are many paths to take once one enters the ranks," Thrawn answered. "The TIE ranks, the walker pilots… but if you wish to become a stormtrooper, that can be arranged."_

_"Wicked!" he exclaimed. "I always liked the stormtroopers!"_

_Thrawn smiled. "If we are to mobilize against Hogwarts, we must act swiftly. We cannot know for certain when they plan to attack. Thus, if you wish to join the Empire, we must take you to Imperial Center immediately."_

_"What… what about our house?" asked Petunia. "Our things…"_

_"We can send someone to retrieve your possessions, but perhaps you'd like to simply start over," Thrawn suggested. "After all, you'll be living on Corusant…"_

_"Done," Vernon said, taking Thrawn's gloved hand and shaking it briskly. "We'll take you up on it." To Petunia he said "Forget the house, we're starting over. It's what's best for Dudley."_

_"Yes…" she replied distractedly, but she still looked very unsure. "Whatever's good for Dudley…"_

Vernon snapped out of his daydream as the ship lurched around them.

"Now approaching Imperial Center," a voice over the intercom announced. "Please have identification ready." The order was repeated in several languages, all totally unfamiliar to Vernon.

"Petunia," he whispered, nudging his wife awake.

She blinked sleepily. "Where are we?"

He grinned widely. "Corusant, my dear. We're beginning a new life… and our son's on a path to greatness."

She gazed anxiously at him. "Vernon… something about this doesn't seem right… I mean, I know you don't like those… people… but Thrawn's accusations seemed pretty harsh…"

"This is that Potter boy's folk we're talking about, Petunia," he replied sternly. "Of course they're up to no good."

She still didn't look too convinced, but at least she didn't say anything else.

"All Imperial Army recruits please have enlistment papers ready and report to Shuttle Bay Four upon landing," the intercom announced again.

Dudley gave the sort of smile he usually exhibited when blowing up something big on his Playstation 2 as he pulled out his papers and stood.


	17. Battle At Hogwarts

**Chapter 16 – Battle At Hogwarts**

Harry was on his way to Vader's office one evening when he encountered Threepio in the corridors, moaning and complaining quite loudly. The droid had evidently had a run-in with the students and come out the worse for it. The stinking remnants of Dungbombs plastered his entire body, and what spots of his formerly gold plating could be seen through the mess seemed to have taken on the appearance of soft yellow fur.

"I seem to be made to suffer," Threepio whimpered. "It's my lot in life."

Artoo bleeped in reply, trailing slightly behind his afflicted counterpart. Unlike Threepio, the astromech looked perfectly normal.

"Well, it's certainly not my fault," Threepio retorted. "I was simply trying to befriend the students as Master Dumbledore asked us. How was I to know that those Weasel twins would see fit to amuse themselves by tormenting a poor droid?"

"That's Weasley twins," Harry corrected, drawing his wand. "Scourgify."

The Dungbomb mess cleared up, but the fur that covered Threepio's plating remained.

"I dunno how to fix that," Harry told him. "You'd better find a teacher."

"Well, thank you anyway, young man," Threepio told him gratefully. "You know, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am See Threepio, human-cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, Artoo Detoo."

Artoo whistled cheerily, rocking back and forth.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, shaking the droid's furry, metallic hand. "So where's the rest of the Rebellion?"

"The Rebel Alliance is currently residing in the dungeons with the rest of Slytherin House," Threepio explained. "But at the moment I suppose they're at drills or whatnot. There's still a war to be fought, you know."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. Which reminds me, I've got to go. I need to see Vader…"

"You and everyone else in this museum, kid," a voice just behind Harry grumbled. He turned to see a man in snug-fitting black trousers, white shirt, and black vest standing behind him, his brown hair as untidy as Harry's and his face good-looking without straying into Lockhart territory. The man looked familiar somehow…

"Han Solo?"

"One and only." Han's mouth quirked in an amused smile. "What happened to Goldenrod?"

"Oh, it was horrible…" began Threepio.

"Never mind, I don't want to know," Han protested, waving him off. To Harry he said, "If you want to see your Dark Arts professor, get in line. Dumbledore's with him, and Luke and Leia are waiting to see him." He shook his head. "Kid finally told us the Sith was his father. Kind of a shock, actually. Wouldn't ever have guessed. How he could have that scumbag…"

"Professor Vader's on our side now," Harry defended.

"I know," Han countered. "Just kind of hard to remember that when he froze you in carbonite and sold you off to a bounty hunter, who happens to also be fighting on our side." He shook his head. "This whole partnership thing is going to take a lot of getting used to." He strolled off.

"Don't mind Master Solo," Threepio advised. "He's rather… difficult."

"I couldn't guess," Harry replied sarcastically. "Professor McGonagall's office is just down the hall. She can probably help you out."

"Thank you, Master Potter."

"Just Harry."

"Thank you, Sir Harry."

"Harry."

The droids moved on, and Harry continued on his way. Han was right – this entire situation was going to take some getting used to. Already he was missing life before the Empire had taken over the wizard world. The small things – Hogsmeade weekends, Quidditch matches, being able to leave the castle without a bounty hunter dogging his steps, packages from Mrs. Weasley – suddenly seemed to be important parts of his life at Hogwarts. Though he would never miss Malfoy, of course – Malfoy could just stay gone, for all he cared.

Dumbledore was just leaving Vader's office when Harry got there. He smiled and motioned for Harry to enter.

"Luke and Leia have been most anxious to meet you in person, Harry," Dumbledore told him.

"Did Vader tell them… that Leia… you know…"

"All three of them now know that they are family," Dumbledore replied. "I made sure they knew everything. Even the prophecies."

Harry felt his gut clench. Not that Vader had no right to tell his children about his link with Harry, but he'd hoped it would stay quiet for a little longer. He hadn't even told Ron or Hermione yet.

"Go on in," Dumbledore urged. "I'll be right behind you."

Harry nodded and went in.

The three Skywalkers were sitting in a corner, talking softly. Leia's eyes looked red, as if she had been crying, and Luke seemed a bit moist-eyed himself. Vader looked the same as ever, of course, but Harry imagined he was smiling under his mask.

"Have a seat, Harry," Vader offered. "We were just discussing you."

"I know." He pulled a chair closer and flopped down in it.

"Harry," said Luke, "we want to thank you for all you've done for our father."

"For what?" he asked. "Teaching him to do a Patronus Charm?"

"For not giving up on him." Luke reached out and clasped his shoulder. "You and Dumbledore let him know he had alternatives to serving the Empire, and even though he didn't see it right away and brushed you off, you kept at him. Your efforts helped him see that he could rejoin the light."

"I'm not sure I'd have done the same thing in your position," Leia added.

Harry squirmed a bit under their praise. "I didn't do anything special."

"You helped an old, tired, stubborn-as-hell man see the error of his ways," Vader told him with a chuckle. "That takes a special kind of power, Harry."

"It takes being stupid and stubborn," Harry countered. "Not a special power."

"I beg to differ," Dumbledore put in. "Harry does have a special power – one that all of you possess, one that can overthrow both the Emperor and Voldemort."

The four of them turned to stare at the Headmaster, bewildered.

"Remember the prophecy of your birth, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired. "That 'he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not?'"

"Yeah," he replied unsurely. "But I haven't got any…"

"There is a power," Dumbledore replied, "that is at once more terrible and more powerful than death, Harry. It is a power that drove you and Ron Weasley to save his brother from the cruelty of Voldemort, a power that drove Vader, as a youth, to rescue his mother from the Sandpeople, a power that drove Luke to Bespin to spare his friends from pain. It is the power that your mother unwittingly invoked when she sacrificed her life to save you… a power that Voldemort has no understanding of and has always, to his detriment, underestimated."

Luke's eyes widened in understanding. "It's love. The power of love."

Vader snorted. "If love is so powerful, why did the Jedi of old forbid it?"

"Because even the Jedi of old were by no means infallible," Dumbledore answered. "Many have misjudged the strength of the heart, assuming it is merely a setback or a liability. The Jedi and the Sith have many differences, but the one thing they have in common is that both see a bond of love as a weakness, something a foe can exploit." He gave them a grave look. "But it is only a bond of love that can defeat the machinations of the Empire."

Harry gaped at the Headmaster.

"I'll leave you alone now," he concluded, turning to go. "Don't keep Harry up too late, he has classes in the morning."

And he turned and left the room, leaving the others to discuss just what he had meant.

_Break…_

The morning of March fourth dawned clear and cold, with a brisk wind adding an extra bite to the already-frigid air. The chill brought a flush of scarlet to the faces of the Rebel soldiers as they gathered outside in the deep trenches dug around Hogwarts, preparing for battle. X-wing fighters rose from the Quidditch pitch and screamed into the hard blue sky. Rumbles and groans issued from the castle's towers as heavy portable guns were set up and readied. Stormtroopers joined the Rebels in their ranks, a golden H painted across each trooper's breastplate to define them from their Imperial foes. The entire school seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

All-Terrain Armored Transports had been sighted five miles south of Hogsmeade just this half-hour past. They could expect the first Imperial offensive any moment now.

Inside the school, all students and Muggle parents were directed to the kitchens and the dungeons, judged to be the safest places in case the school was bombed from the air.

"This place smells like a sewer," grumbled Hermione as he flinched away from a slimy wall. "Honestly, how could Malfoy stand it down here?"

"Maybe it smelled like home, I dunno," Ron replied.

"Why can't we stay topside?" demanded Fred.

"Yeah, we didn't learn advanced spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for nothing, did we?" George put in.

"Those spells were intended as your own personal protection, Weasley," McGonagall informed them. "Pray that you will not be required to use them."

"This stinks," Fred grumbled as the dungeon doors shut. "We don't even get to help with the final battle."

"Yeah, what a ripoff," George added. "This is going to be boring. I say some of us sneak out…"

"If you think it's a thrill to get shot at, go ahead and sneak out," Hermione snapped. "But don't blame us when someone takes a shot at you."

"You're a killjoy, Hermione," Fred told her. "We'll be fine. We've been modifying some of our Weasley Wizard's Wheezes products to do battle."

"Yeah, and you should see some of the booby traps we've got set up," George added. "Remember the statue of the one-eyed crone? Now anyone that walks by will get a load of Zonko's Itching Powder dropped on them."

"Too bad we can't see it happen," bemoaned Fred.

"Not fair," George replied. "Harry gets a first-hand look at the action, and we have to stay here."

"But who said life was fair, brother?" asked Fred.

"I dunno, but he was a liar," George shot back.

"What do you mean, Harry gets a first-hand look at the action?" demanded Hermione.

"Well, you don't see him hanging around here, do you?" asked Fred.

Hermione and Ron scanned the dungeons. All the Gryffindors, half the Ravenclaws, and the last of the Slytherins were present, milling about and talking or engaging in half-hearted games of wizard's chess or Exploding Snap. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe he ended up in the kitchens with the Hufflepuffs and rest of the Ravenclaws," Ron theorized.

"Not likely," Hermione replied worriedly. "Maybe Dumbledore has him hiding someplace else. He's the most wanted student in Hogwarts, after all."

"Then why is Professor Vader fighting with the Order of the Phoenix?" asked Ron. "He's just as wanted as Harry. Why isn't Dumbledore making him hide?"

"Vader can take care of himself," Hermione replied testily. Her opinion of Vader had somewhat improved over the past several weeks, but that still didn't make her entirely accepting of him.

"That's right," Hermione's dad said enthusiastically. "A man who can stop a blaster bolt with his bare hand should be able to handle a few crazy dark wizards…"

"Dad, you're embarrassing me," Hermione muttered.

The entire castle seemed to shudder. Everyone went silent.

"What was that?" squeaked Neville.

"Sounded like a bomb," muttered a Ravenclaw sixth year.

"There it is again!" a Gryffindor first year shrieked as the walls rumbled again.

Mr. Granger paled.

"Imperial walkers approaching," he told them, a grave expression on his face that told his daughter that he was, at last, taking their situation seriously.

_Break…_

Harry watched from Gryffindor tower, his hands clammy with fearful sweat, the back of his neck prickling as his hair stood on end. The four enormous machines lumbering toward Hogwarts through the Forbidden Forest were unlike anything he had ever seen – huge, impossibly strong, their "heads" bristling with guns. With every step they covered at least two dozen feet, trees snapping beneath their "feet" and creatures screaming with terror as they fled.

Vader stood at Harry's side, watching silently. He was familiar with AT-ATs and their destructive power, but that didn't make him any more comfortable with their approach.

"How are we going to stop them?" Harry asked.

"That's where we come in," Vader replied. "There are wizards stationed at every tower and window. On Professor Flitwick's signal, we fire. Use the Impediment Charm."

Harry nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.

"Harry, have courage," Vader advised. "Dumbledore would not have allowed you to fight at my side if he had no faith in you."

"How does he expect us to defeat Voldemort with love?" Harry demanded. "If someone shows love to Voldemort, will he shrivel up and die?" He entertained the bizarre mental image of someone embracing Voldemort and the dark wizard screaming and melting into a puddle at the contact.

"I doubt that's what he meant, Harry," Vader replied. "I think he meant that, because we're fighting to protect our loved ones, we will do battle with a stronger sense of purpose than those who are fighting for the sake of conquest."

A spray of red sparks issued from Ravenclaw Tower.

"That's the first signal," Vader informed him. "Wand ready?"

Harry pointed his wand at the leading AT-AT. The machine was firing at the Rebel trenches now, causing earth and turf to blast upward in dirty fountains.

Another jet of sparks, these green, came from the tower.

"Impedimentia!" Harry and Vader shouted together.

Dozens of spells blasted forth from Hogwarts, as if the castle itself were firing upon its attackers. The lead walker glowed with an eerie red light, then went completely rigid. It lost its balance and toppled to one side with a horrible crash.

"Good work!" came Dumbledore's voice, magically amplified to reach every corner of the school. "Now set your sights on the next one!"

The second AT-AT was felled in a similar fashion. The third went down of its own accord – well, not entirely of its own accord. An enormous form had reared above the trees, roared its anger, and grabbed the machine's right front leg, snapping it off just above the "ankle." Harry gaped as the creature ran for the last walker, laughing in mad glee.

"What was THAT?"

"'That' would be Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp," Vader replied.

"Hagrid's… what?"

"Hagrid visited the giant country over the summer," Vader explained. "The giants will have nothing to do with wizards of any sort, but Hagrid felt obligated to bring back his half-brother to spare him from the bullying of the rest of his kind. From what I have heard, Dumbledore met Grawp while he was organizing the creatures of the Forbidden Forest for the oncoming attack, and he has decided to recruit the giant to our cause."

Harry shook his head. "This keeps getting weirder and weirder."

Stormtroopers poured out of one of the fallen AT-ATs, looking like white-shelled ants from this distance. Screams and odd rasps and honks could be heard throughout the Forbidden Forest as the troopers fought their way to the castle. Some time later Imperial soldiers began trickling out of the forest, albeit far fewer than had exited the AT-ATs. Vader hadn't been joking when he'd said Dumbledore had convinced the denizens of the forest to protect Hogwarts.

"Don't let up your guard," Dumbledore informed them. "We don't know what else they have planned…"

An ominous thrum made Harry look upward. An Imperial shuttle was swooping low, surrounded by TIE fighters. At the rate it was coming, it appeared the ship was aiming to land directly on top of the school. Cannon fire rang through the air, but the shuttle's shields seemed to deflect it easily enough.

His scar seemed to explode. He cried out and clapped both hands over his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. Voldemort was aboard that shuttle… and he fairly pulsed with sadistic glee. He wanted Harry and Vader dead, he would stop at nothing to personally assure it, he would not, could not fail this time…

Vader's hands clamped onto either side of his head, and a weird jolt of power snapped through his skull like static. The pain shattered and evaporated instantly.

"Thanks," Harry groaned, still rubbing his scar.

"The Emperor is aboard that ship," Vader said balefully. "He has brought Voldemort and his closest followers as well."

More green sparks flared from Ravenclaw Tower, and they joined the Order of the Phoenix in firing Impediment Charms at the shuttle. But the spells deflected from an invisible barrier and streaked off in every direction, taking out a few TIE fighters on their way.

"What the stang!" exclaimed Vader. "Shields aren't designed to block spells!"

"Maybe it's new technology," Harry theorized.

"Or maybe it's that the Emperor and Voldemort together are far more powerful than we could ever have guessed," Vader replied.

The shuttle floated toward the castle, its wings folding up as it prepared to touch down.

"All wizards move into the castle!" Dumbledore shouted. "The enemy has entered Hogwarts!"

_Break…_

Dudley Dursley dropped down from the fallen AT-AT and jogged through the forest, his blaster ready. He'd spent the last few weeks training hard to become a stormtrooper, and he'd made it into the ranks just in time for the attack on Hogwarts. Now, at long last, he'd be able to make a name for himself as something other than a spoiled fat kid with a weird delinquent cousin.

Branches rattled against his white armor as he ran. For the first time he felt somewhat thankful for his aunt and uncle forcing him to diet for the past year-and-a-half. Though he was still nowhere near average size, he was at least able to fit comfortably into the largest size of stormtrooper armor available. And he could now keep up a brisk pace without hyperventilating afterward.

"TK-250, your position!" his commander barked into his comm.

"I can see the castle!" he replied, cresting a small knoll and spotting the towers of Hogwarts in the distance. A strict regimen of Clarity Draughts had been made mandatory for every stormtrooper, and though Dudley was more than a little squeamish about ingesting anything prepared by a wizard, he'd complied with the order.

"Can you be more specific?" the commander requested.

"I'm surrounded by forest!" he protested. "It all looks the same!"

The commander muttered something about Earth humans being dimmer than rocks before continuing. "Keep going in a straight line to the school, then. Meet up with your squadron once you've cleared the woods."

"Yes sir."

He plunged deeper into the trees. His father had almost burst with pride that Dudley was going to be fighting to protect England from the treachery of the wizards, but Dudley couldn't care less about England. The only thing that mattered now was that he was fighting – not just pounding some snot-nosed pain-in-the-neck with his gang or chasing Harry up a tree, but actually acting out the battles he'd played on so many video games. He wasn't pushing buttons anymore; he was wearing the armor and firing the weapon, living the life of a stormtrooper…

An arrow struck him in the back, glancing off his armor with a harsh twang.

"Hey!" he screamed, turning and firing.

His aim was particularly bad – instead of hitting the thing that had shot at him, he only managed to set a tree on fire. The creature that had attacked him gave a derisive snort and stepped out of the trees to confront him. Dudley couldn't identify it off the top of his head, but it was a weird mix of human and horse that he remembered seeing on that weird Fantasia cartoon.

"Surrender, human," the man/horse ordered, "and you'll live."

"Over my broken bleedin' body!" Dudley shouted, and he fired again.

The creature reared and shouted in pain as smoke plumed from his withers. Dudley had no time to celebrate his victory, because hands grabbed him from behind. His gun was wrenched from his hands, and no matter how much he kicked and punched the arms wouldn't let go of him.

"Take him to Magorian!" shouted a wild-looking black beast. "Let him decide how to dispose of him!"

"Leggo of me, you freaks!" he screamed.

"Hold your tongue, Muggle human, or we'll cut it out for you!" a gaunt gray creature barked. "Count yourself lucky that we don't kill you here and now…"

Blaster fire ricocheted off the trees, and the creatures dropped Dudley and scattered, some pausing to take parting shots. Two stormtroopers had come to his rescue, and one fell to the ground with an arrow lodged in his neck. The other picked up Dudley's blaster and handed it to him.

"What took you so long?" he demanded.

"And you're most welcome," his rescuer said sarcastically in a definitely female voice, her words flavored with a lyrical Hispanic accent. "We would have been quicker, but we had to run from a giant before we could get to you."

Dudley stared at her. "You're a girl?"

"The Empire needed soldiers fast," she replied. "They couldn't afford to be choosy." She touched her chestplate. "Name's Silvia Banderas, no relation to Antonio."

"Dudley Dursley, no relation to… to anybody, I guess," he replied.

She laughed. "Let's go, amigo, before the centaurs come back." She strode off.

"So that's what they were, centaurs," he replied as he jogged after her.

"This forest is crawling with them," Silvia told him. "They kidnapped our whole squadron except TK-490 and me, who knows what they're doing with the others… then we had to get past that loco magic car… then the giant attacked us…"

Something hideous rasped beside them, and they turned and opened fire on the huge spider that emerged from the trees. Dudley forced back a scream of terror, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of Silvia. This thing was the size of a car!

More spiders closed in, their jaws clattering eagerly. The two troopers fought valiantly, but for every spider they shot, two more seemed to take its place.

"Get ready to run," Silvia ordered, yanking her thermal detonator from her belt. She punched the buttons and hurled it at the largest spider, an elephant-sized beast with white eyes.

The ensuing explosion pelted Dudley with splintered wood, globs of dirt, and chunks of matter that he tried not to think about too hard as he and Silvia ran for it. The spiders were screaming in pain and scuttling about madly, wailing something that sounded suspiciously like "Aragog!"

"That was close," Dudley panted as they stopped to catch their breath. "Ah… thanks."

"No problemo," she replied. "Once you quit hyperventilating, look up. We're at Hogwarts."

"Whoa," he whispered, looking up. The castle was much more impressive up close.

The trenches surrounding the castle were seething with pitched battle as stormtroopers emerged from the forest and engaged the Rebel troops. Dudley stepped forward to help in the battle, but Silvia's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Got a plan, amigo?" she asked. "Personally, I'd like to survive to tell my parents about this."

"Uh…" He stared back up at the castle, where the Emperor's shuttle was making a landing. He had no desire to get himself killed either. But concocting a survival plan was pretty taxing on a mind unused to having to make decisions for himself.

Then it hit him – Hogwarts! If they could get inside the school, not only would they be safe from the Rebel soldiers, but they could probably do something heroic in there and make names for themselves! And maybe he could track down that good-for-nothing cousin of his and get some payback for what had happened this summer…

A twig snapped, and he turned, half-expecting a centaur. But instead a strange black animal that looked like a mad scientist had crossed a horse with a dragon stared at them with glowing white eyes. The sight of the creature made him shudder… but it also gave him an idea.

"We'll ride that," he told her.

"Ride what?" Silvia demanded.

"That horse thing," he told her, pointing.

"What horse thing?"

"You don't see it?" Was he seeing things? But when he blinked his eyes several times, the creature was still there. It was even approaching, its nostrils flared to catch his scent.

"I don't see any caballo, amigo," she said exasperatedly. "So stop playing games… Madre de Dios! What was that?"

For the beast had begun licking Silvia's armor, its wide tongue lapping up the spider gunk that covered her.

"That's the horse thing I was talking about," Dudley replied, happy to be proven right.

"Well, how come I can't see it and you can…" She smacked her helmet. "Thestrals!"

"What's 'thestrals' Spanish for?"

"No, this thing's a thestral! I overheard some of the wizards talking about them. You can't see them unless you've seen death."

"You mean you haven't seen death?"

"Not yet."

He was about to ask about her comrade TK-490, but then he realized she'd had her back to him when the centaurs had shot him. She had seen him alive and she had seen his corpse, but she hadn't actually witnessed his death.

"Here," he told her, and he helped her onto the thestral's back. He climbed on behind her and kicked the beast's ribs.

"Giddap!" he ordered. "Fly to the castle!"

The beast snorted and took to the air, largely unnoticed by those on the ground.


	18. Malfoy Meets Dudley

**Chapter 17 – Malfoy Meets Dudley**

The halls of Hogwarts were thrown into utter chaos. Death Eaters and Order members clashed in the corridors, the air crackling with energy as spells were exchanged. Blaster fire joined the zing and sizzle of magic as stormtroopers and Rebel commandos fired upon each other. Paintings were knocked, screaming, to the floor, and suits of armor jumped from their pedestals and joined eagerly in the fray.

Four students slipped out of the dungeons, largely unnoticed in the general hubbub, and drew their wands.

"Maybe we should split up," Ron suggested.

"Good idea," Hermione replied. "We can go in pairs. If one pair finds him, send a Tracer Spell – red if he's injured and green if he's okay."

"Capital idea, Hermione," Fred agreed.

"We'll go left, you two go right," George added, and he and his twin hurried down the corridor.

"I wonder what they've got up their sleeves," wondered Hermione.

"Wish I could see," Ron complained.

"Freeze!"

Two men stepped out of a side corridor, one brandishing his wand, the other wielding a lightsaber. Sirius Black and Luke Skywalker lowered their weapons upon seeing who the intruders were.

"We told you to stay…" began Sirius.

"Where's Harry?" demanded Ron.

"He's fine," Luke replied. "We'll escort you back to the dungeons…"

Hermione folded her arms and gave the Jedi Knight a defiant look. "We're not moving until you tell us where Harry is."

Sirius smirked. "Better answer her question, Luke. She's serious."

Luke sighed. "Harry didn't want anyone to know…"

"We're his friends!" Ron protested. "Why would he hide anything from us?"

"Because it concerns prophecies," Luke replied. "The prophecy you three stole from the Ministry of Magic back at Christmastime, the prophecy of the Chosen One, and a prophecy that Professor Trelawney gave while doing a palm reading on Professor Vader."

"Oh," Ron replied weakly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Hermione, frowning.

"It means that according to the prophecy you kept out of the Emperor's paws, Harry is the only one that can destroy You-Know-Who," Sirius replied.

"And according to the Chosen One Prophecy, only Vader can defeat Emperor Palpatine," Luke added. "But now that they've joined forces…"

"…the third prophecy states that in order to defeat the Dark Lords, Harry and Vader have to fight side by side," Sirius finished.

Ron and Hermione gaped at the two men.

"I know, I don't like it either," Sirius muttered, looking away. "I don't want any harm coming to Harry any more than you do. But we have no choice."

"Wrong," Hermione insisted. "We do have a choice. And I choose to go help him."

"Hermione…" began Ron, but she was already marching away.

"Well?" she demanded. "Is anyone else coming?"

"I'm in," Sirius declared.

"Count me in, too," Luke added.

Ron reluctantly followed the others. "Just how are we expecting to 'help' them fight two howling-mad dark wizards or Sith or whatnot?"

"We'll figure that out when we get there," Luke assured him.

"They were assigned to Gryffindor Tower…" began Sirius.

A cluster of stormtroopers rounded the corner, opening fire.

"_Protego_!" Hermione shouted.

The Shield Charm snapped into effect, and the blaster fire ricocheted every which way.

"_Stupefy_!" Ron, Sirius, and Hermione shouted at once.

Three troopers went down. The rest backed away warily.

"What's the matter?" sneered a hooded woman who stepped to the front of the stormtroopers with an imperious air. "Afraid of a few little children?" She eyed Sirius coolly. "Well, well, well. Look at what Dumbledore drug in – a stray dog."

"Bellatrix," snarled Sirius.

Luke gave Ron and Hermione a questioning look. They shrugged in reply.

"You take care of the others," she ordered her men. "I'll handle my dear cousin."

The stormtroopers charged, splitting into two columns to bypass the family face-off.

"On three," Luke ordered Ron and Hermione. "One… two… three!"

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" shouted Hermione.

"Eat slugs!" Ron cried.

The leading troopers on Hermione's side went completely rigid, toppling over like dominoes and tripping up their comrades. Those at the head of the charge on Ron's side doubled over and began retching uncontrollably, ripping off their helmets and spewing slugs onto the ground. Luke, meanwhile, parried volley after volley of blaster fire, keeping the students protected as they launched hexes and curses at the rest of the troopers.

Meanwhile, far more deadly curses crisped the air as Sirius Black and Bellatrix LeStrange battled, he with a look of cold determination, she with a maniacal gleam in her eyes.

"_Crucio_!" she bellowed.

"_Protego_!" Sirius retorted, and the spell narrowly missed Bellatrix and blasted a crater in the wall.

"_Avis_!" he shouted.

She deftly dodged the spell, which struck a stormtrooper in the backside. Before he could even yelp in pain, he sprouted feathers and a beak, turning into a sparrow right before his comrades' eyes. Momentarily distracted by his sudden transformation, the troopers were now easy prey for Ron and Hermione, who took great relish in inflicting jinxes on them.

"Oh, too good to play rough, dogface?" cackled Bellatrix.

"Who's more the dog, Bella, me or you?" Sirius retorted, smiling a little.

She snarled at the implied insult. "Oh, heads are going to roll. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Sirius dropped and rolled, just barely avoiding the curse. Before he could rise again, however, a second spell hit him in the stomach, and his legs refused to cooperate as he struggled to stand.

"Felled by a childish Jelly Legs Curse," she said mockingly, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. "Oh, dear cousin, however did the noble Black family line get saddled with such a throwback?" She aimed her wand at his heart. "_Avada…"_

Luke thrust his hand at her, palm out. With a cry she tumbled backward, landing on her back.

"_Stupefy_!" shouted Hermione.

Red light enveloped the Death Eater, and she went limp. Luke bent down to help Sirius to his feet, but his legs sagged beneath him, still afflicted by the curse.

"Hold still," Luke advised. "Let me see if I can't use the Force to lift it."

"What do we do with her?" asked Ron, pointing at Bellatrix.

"I'll handle it," Hermione replied, stepping over a moaning stormtrooper whose face was covered with great flapping growths, a nasty side effect of the Bat-Bogey Curse. "_Incarcerio_," she stated, and thick black bands shot out of her wand and bound Bellatrix LeStrange from head to foot. "That should hold her."

"She's your cousin?" asked Ron.

"Look, I'm not proud of having a Death Eater for a relative," snapped Sirius, rubbing his legs to restore circulation once Luke was finished lifting the curse. "She's blood, but she's not family. As far as I'm concerned, Harry and his family were my family."

"All the more reason to make sure he and my father win this fight," Luke replied.

The four of them continued down the corridor, leaving an unconscious, tightly bound Death Eater and a mass of groaning, incapacitated stormtroopers in their wake.

_Break…_

"Here comes a Death Eater," Fred said with a grin.

"Should we attack?" asked George. "Or see if he falls for the trap first?"

"Eh, let's hold off. No jumping the gun, brother."

"Dunno, cursing him could be a load of fun…"

"Just as I thought," snarled the Death Eater in a rather familiar voice. "Weasleys. If you're the best Dumbledore has to set against us, then he's in rather dire straits, isn't he?"

"C'mon, Mr. Malfoy, curse us please!" pleaded Fred.

"Yeah, we don't mind in the least!" George added.

Lucius Malfoy eyed them suspiciously. "You expect me to fall for that?" He drew, not a wand, but a blaster from his robes and stalked forward.

"Three… two… one," the twins counted together.

Lucius' foot landed on a flagstone that was indiscernible from the others – except that it was charmed. Instantly the floor beneath him turned to foul-smelling mush, and he screamed and dropped his weapon as he promptly sank chest-deep in the mire.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Portable Swamp!" cheered Fred. "Only the latest in our long line of joke items and defense mechanisms!"

"And as a special bonus, you get a free bottle of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Tickle Tonic with every swamp you order!" George added, producing a jug. "A limited time offer."

"You wouldn't dare," hissed Lucius.

"Dare us," Fred challenged.

"I think he already did," George countered, and he bent over and cheerily dumped the entire gallon of Tickle Tonic into the slimy waters.

"Don't you – ha ha – dare – hee ha ha ha ha! – Weasleys, I'll get you for this – ho ho ha ha – stop, stop, please!"

Fred and George exchanged pleasant grins, then turned their backs on the screaming, laughing Lucius and strolled away.

"Think that was a little harsh, bro?"

"Nah, we could've done a lot worse."

"Suppose we'd better go find Harry now."

"Yeah, no more playing around…"

A net of fine mesh fell around them, weighted at the edges to prevent their escape. A familiar, menacing figure stepped out of a vacant classroom to regard his catch. Both boys gaped.

"Well now," he rasped harshly, stroking his weapon. "I set a trap to snare a krayt dragon, and instead I get a couple of womp rats."

"Cheerio, Mr. Fett," Fred greeted.

"We love your outfit," George put in.

Fett lifted the edge of the net to let the twins escape. "I was hoping for a Death Eater."

"There's one laughing his head off in a bog just down the corridor," Fred offered.

"Want us to get him for you?" George asked.

The hunter shook his head. "There'll be plenty more to fight, boys."

As if on cue two hulking Death Eaters – gargantuan versions of Crabbe and Goyle – rounded the bend and aimed their wands.

"Got a plan, Fett?" asked Fred.

"If not, we can always launch a few Dungbombs," suggested George.

"I have a better idea," Fett replied. He drew a metallic sphere from his pocket, pressed the trigger, and hurled it forward. Crabbe and Goyle stared dully at the object as it clanged to rest at their feet.

"What's that?" asked Fred.

"We'll find out, brother," George replied.

The sphere beeped rapidly, then exuded a fine toffee-colored mist. Crabbe and Goyle leaned forward and sniffed experimentally – obviously the younger Crabbe and Goyle did not inherit their intellects from their mothers. Almost instantly the Death Eaters had vanished… to be replaced by two bleating, confused-looking angora rams.

"Nice," Fred said with a grin.

"Didn't we invent something like that?" George inquired, cocking an eyebrow at his brother.

"When I discovered the magical properties of that toffee you two so graciously gave me," Fett explained, "I took it upon myself to do something useful with it. So I liquefied it and stored it in several aerosol sprayers like that one."

"A blend of Muggle mechanics and wizard magic," Fred noted.

"I like that," George replied.

"Got any more of those Sheep Bombs?" asked Fred.

"Dozens." Fett tossed one to each of them.

"Wicked!" George pocketed his. "Let's go stir up some merry mayhem."

_Break…_

Upon hearing Dumbledore's order to fight off the enemy within the castle, Harry and Vader left their post at the window and turned to the portal – only to find someone already there.

"Long time no see, Potter," the intruder sneered, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, arms folded, a slimy smile on his face.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" demanded Harry.

"Me? The prize student of Emperor Palpatine and the Dark Lord? What do you think I'm doing here?" He unfolded his arms and stepped forward, and now Harry could see the insignia on the breast of his robes – an Imperial crest with a serpent twined through it. And his face… something was wrong with his face. His normally pale gray eyes had a strange orange glow, and overall there was a hardness, an almost feral look to his features that chilled Harry.

"So the Emperor has taken on a new apprentice," Vader noted. "I must say he chose poorly."

"Watch it, Vader," Malfoy said scathingly. "You have no more power over me. If anything, you should be bowing to me – Darth Malfoy, Sith Apprentice and Head Boy of the Imperial School of Dark Arts."

Vader snorted.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Are you _laughing_ at me, Mudblood?"

"Define laughing," Vader replied.

Malfoy extended his hand, and to Harry's astonishment lightning leaped from his palm. Vader ignited his lightsaber, and the crackling blue energy arced across the length of his blade.

"If only Snape could see this," Vader said disdainfully. "His favorite student has fallen to the dark side."

"Snape? Snape's a traitor to the noble cause of the Empire. He deserves nothing short of death." The electricity flowing from Malfoy's hand increased.

Vader's weapon gave a high-pitched screech, and the blade wavered.

Harry drew his wand. "_Stupefy_!"

Malfoy held both hands before him, and the spell bounced off an unseen barrier. But his attack had the intended effect – the lightning vanished.

"We have a score to settle, Potter," snarled Malfoy.

Something gave an odd wail, and the three of them turned to the window.

_What the heck?_ thought Harry, now thoroughly confused.

A thestral launched itself through the open window, two stormtroopers on its back. The beast folded its wings and stood still as the two soldiers dismounted – well, one dismounted while the other fell to the floor and just lay there.

Malfoy looked aghast. "How did… they… they just flew in… no jetpacks…"

"You weren't paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures class, were you?" asked Harry.

The fallen stormtrooper, who Harry realized was a woman, muttered in a combination of Spanish and English as the thestral leaped out the window. "Never again… that was the worst… gonna kill the gringo for suggesting this…"

"Who are you?" demanded Malfoy haughtily.

"What's it to you?" the standing trooper shot back – in a terribly familiar voice.

"_Dudley_?" gaped Harry. "What are you doing here?"

"Working for the Empire, stupid," Dudley retorted, drawing his blaster. "Mum and Dad moved to Corusant, and I joined the Imperial Academy. I'm a stormtrooper now."

Harry shook his head, his mind reeling. If life at Hogwarts had been convoluted before the battle, now his life was beginning to make no sense whatsoever. The boundaries between Privet Drive, Hogwarts, and the world of Star Wars were more blurred than ever. The Empire and Lord Voldemort were fighting together against the Order of the Phoenix and the Alliance, Darth Vader was fighting as a wizard at Harry's side, Draco Malfoy was a Sith Apprentice, Dudley Dursley was at Hogwarts and fighting alongside the Empire…

"So that's where your family went," Vader mused. "You were deceived by the Empire."

Dudley aimed at Vader. "Don't make me shoot you, traitor. It's Harry I'm here for."

Harry drew his wand.

"Oh no you don't, Muggle," Malfoy snapped, striding forward. "It will be MY pleasure to destroy Potter once and for all. You can take him – if you can." He pointed at Vader.

"No way!" Dudley retorted. "Getting back at my cousin's the only reason I came here! YOU fight the tin-can head!"

"Now just a minute…" Vader protested, somewhat insulted by the comment.

"Hey, amigo, we're here to fight the scarface and the cyborg, not our own men!" the other trooper shouted.

"Stay out of this, Silvia," Dudley advised. "Move, warlock-boy. I'm taking Harry."

"Stand aside, you sack of lard," countered Malfoy. "Potter's mine."

"Oh yeah?" sneered Dudley. "Well, for your information, I can pound Potter any time I want, freaky-eyes."

"What did you call me?" demanded Malfoy.

"I called you freaky-eyes, freaky-eyes," Dudley replied. "Got a problem with that, sissy wizard spawn?"

"Shut your mouth, filthy Muggle half-wit!"

"I ain't no half-wit, you big bag of garbage!"

"That does it." Malfoy raised a hand, prepared to shoot lightning. "Take back what you said, lowly stormtrooper, or I'll be forced to deliver consequences."

"You and what army, pig-face?"

Wizard and stormtrooper laid into each other, fists and blue sparks flying. Screamed insults and the thud of landing blows filled the air as the two of them warred for the right to fight Harry. Silvia stared, at once paralyzed and mute with amazement at her comrade's stupidity.

Harry shook his head. "I always wondered what would happen if those two ever met. Now I know."

Vader chuckled. "The Emperor chose both his apprentice and his new stormtroopers rather poorly, I must say." He clapped Harry's shoulder and turned to the portal. "Shall we join the others in fighting the Empire?"

"I'm ready," Harry declared.

Vader pushed the portal open.

The Emperor and Voldemort greeted them on the other side, wearing identical smiles of sheer gleeful malevolence… and each clutching a glowing red lightsaber.


	19. The Stag and the Dragon

**Chapter 18 – The Stag and the Dragon**

The Emperor gave a laugh of pure cold malevolence. "You're trapped, Vader and Potter. It is finished. Surrender now, and we may grant you a painless death."

A sickening thud came from behind them, and Harry turned despite himself. From the look of things, Silvia had finally chosen a side to the Draco/Dudley battle and used the butt of her rifle to knock Malfoy out. She and Dudley now kept their weapons trained on Harry and Vader's backs, waiting for their superiors' signal to fire.

"Pathetic," Voldemort snorted. "Draco shows none of the prowess of his father."

"He is of no consequence," Palpatine said dismissively. "It is Vader and Potter who matter."

A snap-hiss, and Vader's lightsaber flickered to life. "We refuse to surrender."

"Speak for yourself," snarled Voldemort. "Let Potter decide for himself."

Harry raised his wand. "_Stupefy!"_

Voldemort raised his lightsaber, deflecting the spell. "Ah, so you haven't learned your lesson from our meeting two years ago, Potter. Our wands share a core, pathetic child. They will not work properly against each other." He gave a chilling grin. "I have… other means of killing you."

"You'll have to get through me first," Vader said firmly, moving to place himself between Voldemort and Harry.

"Move!" Harry told him. "I can take him! You have to fight the Emperor!"

Vader moved – but not of his own accord. A blast of Force-lightning flung him across the common room and into the far wall. The Emperor strode into the center of the room, keeping a continuous stream of lightning pouring into the Dark Arts professor. Vader writhed and thrashed, screaming under the attack.

"Professor!"

"He is done for, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "Don't waste your time on him." He slashed at Harry.

Harry hit the floor, and the saber hummed through the air, barely missing him. Voldemort growled and raised the weapon like a battle-ax to cleave Harry in two. He scrambled out of the way as the weapon bit into the floor. He reached for his wand… only to find it gone. He must have dropped it ducking the first strike. Frantically he ran his hands over the floor, trying to locate the weapon.

His hands touched a cool metal grip… Vader's lightsaber.

_He'd better not mind that I'm using his saber_, thought Harry, and he got to his feet, brandishing the weapon.

Voldemort gave an insulting chuckle. "It helps to turn it on, Potter."

His face flushed red, and he pressed the button. The weapon seemed to buck in his hands as a column of red fire burst from the hilt, emitting a sinister thrum.

Voldemort slashed again, and Harry raised the saber to block. The light sword vibrated with the force of the strike, and the bones in his fingers and wrist seemed to rattle. The next blow almost knocked the weapon out of his clammy hands. This was much harder than it looked!

_Harry…_ Vader's Force-voice was wracked with pain. _Use the Force… let it flow through you…_

_Just shut up and concentrate on your side of the battle!_ Harry cried in frustration. _If you die, the entire prophecy's shot!_

_And if you die, we fail… trust me… trust in the Force… let go…_

Let go of what? His saber? Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea right now; the weapon was almost more trouble than it was worth.

_Let go, Harry._ This was an entirely different voice, a pleasant sagacious voice, one Harry had never heard until now. _Use the Force. Let go of your preconceived notions and rely on instinct._

Voldemort swung at Harry's head, and his first impulse was to block. But something else seemed to take command of him, to flush him of his panic and infuse him with calm. His arms acted of their own volition, and his weapon moved to block the strike that altered its course and aimed for his stomach rather than his head.

_Good, Harry. That move was a feint. Most seasoned fighters would have recognized it, but since you're inexperienced, I gathered you could use the advice._

_Who are you?_

_A friend of your Dark Arts professor. I'm Qui-gon Jinn._

_Qui-gon who?_

Before the voice could respond, Voldemort attacked with renewed fury. Harry let the Force take control, letting it guide him as it had at their first Quidditch match when Fett had attacked him. Sparks rained down all around as their weapons collided over and over.

_Behind you!_

Harry whirled, and blaster bolts ricocheted off his blade. The stormtroopers weren't content to just sit back and watch – they were firing at him!

"Enough, you two!" Voldemort snarled. "He's mine!"

Harry saw his opening, and he lunged forward, thrusting his saber at Voldemort's unprotected belly. But he moved almost effortlessly, blocking the attack and retaliating with a complicated series of cuts that hammered at Harry's defenses. The invisible, mysterious Qui-gon coached him through the battle, keeping Harry, if not on the offensive, at least in one piece.

_Please let it be over soon,_ Harry pleaded. _Let Vader be all right… let us get out of this alive._

_Break…_

Luke, Sirius, Hermione, and Ron halted at the bottom of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. Harsh clashes and a strange electric sizzle could be heard as an unseen battle raged. Luke began to charge up the stairs, but Sirius' hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Something's not right," he said.

"Yeah, I know something's not right," Luke replied, wrenching away. "My father's fighting for his life up there!"

"Ron, Sirius, look!" Hermione shouted, pointing.

A large rat, which had up until now sat motionless on the steps, skittered up the staircase.

"I'd know that rodent anywhere," Sirius said coldly. "_Accio Rat!"_

The rat flew into Sirius' hands with a shriek of terror. He held the creature up by its tail and pointed to one forepaw. All toes were present… but it had an odd silvery sheen to it, as if the limb were artificial.

"Scabbers!" Ron gaped. "I mean… Wormtail!"

"Peter Pettigrew," Hermione corrected.

"How many names does that rat have?" asked Luke, suppressing a laugh.

"It's no joke, Luke," Sirius replied, pointing his wand at the rat. "Now resume your human form, Wormtail, before I take drastic action."

The rat shrilled loudly, then abruptly shifted to the form of a tiny, watery-eyed man, with Sirius' hand gripping the scruff of his neck.

"Playing spy for your master?" Sirius inquired.

"P-p-please…" pleaded Wormtail. "I w-was j-j-just following orders…" But he plunged his silvery right hand into his pocket, feeling about for his wand.

"_Stupefy!"_ Hermione shouted.

Wormtail collapsed, and Sirius kicked his unconscious body to one side.

"Send a Tracer spell," Sirius ordered. "Then let's go upstairs."

_Break…_

Fred cheered as another Sheep Bomb landed in the middle of a trench that was swarming with Imperial troops, transforming every stormtrooper within a ten-foot radius.

"Uh-oh, you got a few Rebels too," George noted, lobbing a Sheep Bomb from the top of the Divination Tower where the twins and Boba Fett had stationed themselves.

"Ah, it'll wear off in a few days," Fred said easily. "Then we can sort them all out."

The battle raged on, but it seemed that Hogwarts would triumph today. Already the Imperial troops were beginning to retreat, accompanied by Voldemort's Death Eaters. Those few that stuck around to fight were rapidly being shot, cursed, or transfigured into harmlessness. Most of the enemy army had fled into the Forbidden Forest – an incredibly stupid move, seeing as the centaurs and acromantulas were in no mood to entertain Imperial visitors in their home.

"There's a Death Eater!" shouted Fred, pointing. A hooded wizard was leading a squadron of stormtroopers toward the castle.

Fett dropped a Sheep Bomb in their midst. The Death Eater acted too quickly, however, casting a Bubble Charm on himself and several of the troopers before the weapon could land and release its shape-altering vapor. They pressed on.

"Stang," Fett hissed. "Got any other ideas?"

"Right here," George replied, lifting a heavy sack and dumping it over the side of the tower.

A fine greenish powder settled on the troops like snow, dusting the fish-bowl-like bubbles over their heads like frost. For a moment nothing happened.

Then one of the stormtroopers dropped his gun and clawed like mad at his armor, groaning with some invisible agony. Others followed suit, some falling to the ground and writhing, others tearing off pieces of their armor and rubbing their limbs. The Death Eater scratched at his arms, cursing and shouting, as the Zonko's Itching Powder took effect.

"Nice," Fett noted.

"Isn't it great?" asked Fred with a grin.

"You get it really cheap from Zonko's if you buy in bulk…" added George.

A jet of scarlet light streaked past them.

"Uh-oh, that must be the Tracer spell," Fred said, his smile vanishing.

"Means Harry's in trouble," George added gravely.

Fett drew his blaster. "Let's go."

_Break…_

Dudley couldn't take his eyes off the battle between Harry and the weird snake-faced wizard. Something told him he should do something – shoot at Harry, throw his thermal detonator, anything – but he couldn't move. It was as if he'd been petrified.

"Why didn't you shoot?" demanded Silvia. "We're here to take out the wizard…"

Dudley shook his head, unable to speak.

"What, you chicken?" Silvia asked scathingly.

He didn't reply. He didn't have the guts to tell her that it was his cousin they were facing, his cousin that was fighting the same wizard that had tried to kill Harry as a boy. Somehow, in this, the unlikeliest of spots, that fact finally hit home. Harry was his cousin, his aunt's son. Never mind that he'd never met his Aunt Lily or Uncle James once, never mind that it was Harry's fault that he'd sprouted a pig's tale and been attacked by dementors, never mind that he'd spent years on a ruthless campaign to make Harry's life miserable. Somehow, when he had the opportunity to kill Harry once and for all – practically been handed it on a silver platter, in fact – he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

The fizzling on the other side of the room ceased, and he turned his head slightly to see Vader rise from the floor.

_Oh no_. He didn't need Silvia's urgings to act now. He'd seen "Star Wars" enough times to know a pissed-off Vader was something no one wanted to face. He raised his blaster, having no qualms about shooting Vader if it was necessary.

_Break…_

Vader gasped for breath as the Emperor finally ceased his lightning assault, struggling to his hands and knees. Something in his chest was buzzing ominously. He wondered how badly his cybernetic components had been damaged by the attack.

"You fool," Palpatine sneered. "You honestly couldn't fathom your own destruction being plotted? Why do you think I forced you to take a year's sabbatical? Why do you think I ordered you to keep me informed of the affairs of the wizard's world? Did you honestly think your year off was a vacation? Don't tell me you were _that_ stupid."

"I trusted you," Vader grated through clenched teeth, his voice distorted by his malfunctioning voice synthesizer. "You were my master. I trusted my master. I now see that my trust was ill-placed." He glared at the Emperor. "You _used_ me."

"You should have seen that from the beginning." Another jolt of electricity seared through his body. "You had a weakness all along – honor. A holdover from your days as a Jedi Knight. You should have shed that honor long ago, when you became a Sith. Honor has no place among us."

He ripped his wand from his belt and shouted "_Protego!"_ The next blast of lightning flowed over him as if being deflected by an invisible bubble.

"You might as well give it up," Palpatine snarled. "You're as good as dead."

Vader spotted Harry over his former master's shoulder, dueling the Dark Lord. He sensed the presence of another with the boy… Qui-gon? An unexpected smile crossed his lips. The renegade Master always had his own style, however unorthodox.

Another blast of lightning, and he renewed the Shield Charm just in time.

"What makes you think you're a match for me?" Palpatine demanded. "Why do you keep pointlessly resisting the inevitable?"

"Prophecy, old man," Vader replied.

"The Chosen One Prophecy?" laughed Palpatine. "You honestly believe that drivel?"

"No," Vader replied. "The Prophecy of the Stag and the Dragon."

"What does that mean?"

He focused with all his might on his memory of Luke and Leia, of their discussion just a week ago, of finally being reunited with his and Padme's children. Confident that it would be enough, he raised his wand again.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

The dragon erupted from his wand, screaming its rage. Vader doubted the Patronus would have much effect on the Emperor, but it just might distract him enough to halt the lightning attacks for a while, giving him an opportunity to help Harry. The diversion worked – Palpatine began firing electricity at the beast, but the energy passed through the Patronus as if it were a ghost. The dragon, meanwhile, snapped at the Emperor, causing him to jump back.

The stormtroopers aimed their weapons at Vader, but a gesture and a flicker of the Force crushed their guns to rubble. He turned to Harry, intent on aiding him.

Pain exploded at the base of his spine, spreading throughout his entire body. The Emperor's renewed electric strike invaded him like an acidic poison, burning, searing, wreaking havoc wherever it touched. He fell to his knees, struggling just to breathe. From somewhere far away he could hear his Patronus roar its rage, but he knew the creature was of little use.

His wand flew from his weakened grasp, landing in the Emperor's hand.

Palpatine laughed. "The dragon is slain. Let's see how long the stag holds up to my colleague's skills."

The Patronus snarled, flicking its tail. Something skittered across the floor to come to rest beside his trembling hands – Harry's wand.

Harry screamed. Voldemort's weapon had connected, burning a deep gash down the inside of his right arm from elbow to wrist. The Emperor gave a triumphant cackle, turning his back on Vader to watch the battle.

It was Harry's cry that spurred Vader to action, despite the fact that he was in such agony he could barely move. He struggled to get his fingers around the wand, though he shook so badly he could hardly get a grip on it. Raising his arm, he took careful aim at the Emperor's back.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

The Emperor went completely rigid. A look of shock came across his features as he began to topple over.

The dragon Patronus had other plans. It butted the stiffened Emperor slightly to the right with its muzzle, and the tyrant fell, not to the floor, but out the open window. A scream of horrified rage was the last Vader heard from his former master.

He collapsed, wheezing, every nerve in his body throbbing, every circuit scorched to a crisp. Welcome blackness overwhelmed him.

_Break…_

Harry heard the Emperor's death cry but didn't have time to react to it. He was busy trying to avoid Voldemort's fury.

_Your Patronus, Harry!_ Qui-gon advised.

_What are you talking about? That's for fighting dementors!_

_A Patronus is more than a weapon, Harry. It can defend you in many situations._

_I dunno where my wand is!_

_Remember what Vader told you. You don't need your wand to access the Force._

Was this Qui-gon suggesting he use the Force to summon his Patronus? He'd never tried that before. But he might as well give it a try. He was rapidly running out of options.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

Hoofbeats sounded, and the familiar silver stag cantered into view, head lowered to charge Voldemort. The Dark Lord yelped and sprang aside, and the Patronus' antlers caught his robes as it galloped by. Voldemort raised his weapon to take on this new threat… leaving himself wide open.

Harry thrust his saber forward, stabbing Voldemort in the ribs.

A horrible rasping scream filled the air. His scar exploded with agony, pulsing and tearing at his skull with more pain than he'd ever remembered feeling. The fire in his head was so great that he hardly felt the pain of Voldemort's saber as it plunged into his shoulder, burning deeply as the Dark Lord attempted to take Harry with him in his death throes.

"Harry!"

Someone was grabbing Voldemort's hand, yanking the saber out of Harry, shoving the dark wizard's body away. Hands dragged Harry across the common room and dropped him on the sofa. The world swam around him, his shoulder and arm seared as if he'd thrust them into the fireplace…

"Dudley…" he gasped. "Why…"

"What did you do, gringo?" demanded Silvia.

"Harry, don't you dare die on me!" Dudley demanded. "Mum'll kill me, I know it…"

"Senor Dursley, this is the _enemy!_ We were sent to…"

"To hell with that! If you know first aid, help me, but otherwise shut up!"

"Fine," she snorted. "Move aside. I'll treat him for shock."

Through the haze of pain, Harry somehow understood. It was as Sirius had said – ties of blood could not be easily ignored. For all that they were complete opposites, Harry and Dudley were cousins. And that somehow bonded them as surely as prophecy bound Harry and Vader.

"Thanks…" Harry managed.

"Well…" Dudley hesitated. "Don't think I'm gonna save you every time, dweeb."

"Vader…" he whispered. "Help Vader…"

He never knew if Dudley listened to his request, because his world faded to black.

_Break…_

Luke was the first to enter Gryffindor Tower. He paused at the portal, staring in shock, then ran to his father's side.

"Blimey," Ron said weakly. "This must've been some huge battle."

That was a definite understatement. The room was a disaster – books scattered everywhere, char marks on the floor and walls, furniture overturned or smashed. A black-robed body lay on the floor near the doorway, unmoving, a neat black-edged hole piercing it cleanly. Vader was equally still, his armor smoking, his body slumped next to the cannon that took up a good quarter of the common room. Two ethereal-looking creatures also occupied the room – a stag, which stood by the couch with an oddly concerned expression on its elegant face, and a dragon, which sat by Vader's prone form, its wings spread slightly to cover its conjurer's body like a mother hen protecting her chick.

"Is he alive?" asked Sirius.

"Barely," Luke replied, placing an ear next to Vader's mask. "Hermione, can you conjure a stretcher?"

"Wait a minute," Hermione replied. "Where's Harry?"

Sirius stepped past the stag and looked down on the couch. "What the…"

The stormtrooper looked up at Sirius. "I didn't do it," he insisted fiercely. "That… what's-his-name stabbed him…"

Another stormtrooper knelt beside Harry, checking his pulse. Harry was unconscious, and his right arm and shoulder were both very badly burned. His scar was a vivid red, no doubt greatly aggravated by Voldemort's dying anger. Sirius instinctively knelt and lifted Harry in his arms, ready to take him to the hospital wing.

"Will he be all right?" asked the first trooper.

"I sure hope so," Sirius replied.

The trooper nodded. "I'm Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin. Who're you?"

"Sirius Black, Harry's godfather."

Dudley gulped upon recognizing the name. "Y-you're the one who was in Azkaban…"

"I was wrongfully imprisoned," Sirius said quickly. "Long story, I'll tell you later."

"C'mon," Luke urged, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder to urge him along. "We've got to get these two to the hospital wing."

_Break…_

Outside Gryffindor Tower, it was Dumbledore himself that came across the Emperor's body. He knelt and placed a hand on the fallen monarch's chest. Feeling no heartbeat, he gave a grim nod. Then he removed a comm unit from his robes.

"Lady Mothma, the Emperor is dead. The Imperial Army is in full retreat. The battle's over. Call in all forces."

"Yes, Dumbledore."


	20. Somewhere Between Dreams and Death

**Chapter 19 – Somewhere Between Death and Dreams**

The Imperial menace had been routed at last. Led by Headmaster Dumbledore and Professors McGonagall and Snape, the Rebel army had captured or destroyed Voldemort's followers and the Empire's best troops. Members of the Order of the Phoinex miraculously pulled off the almost-impossible feat of extracting Palpatine's minions from the Ministry of Magic without attracting the attention of the Muggle world, which still wasn't ready to deal with the double whammy of magic and space. Other factions of the Rebellion would handle the dirty work of reconstructing a workable government from the ashes of the Empire, but even that task seemed incredibly simple compared to what they had just faced.

To the wizard's world and the galaxy in general, the war was over.

But to those close to Harry Potter and Darth Vader, another battle was being waged, this one against, not the forces of darkness, but against death itself.

It was fortunate that safe travel outside of Hogwarts was again possible, for the two Chosen Ones required the expertise of the Healers at St. Mungo's to recover from their ordeal. Harry would no doubt bear the scars of Voldemort's saber for the rest of his life. And Vader… for hours he hovered at the edge of death, requiring the constant presence of a Healer to keep from slipping into the void of the beyond.

A room adjacent to Harry and Vader's room had been converted into a temporary guest suite for their well-wishers – of which there were many. Dumbledore was there, of course, and Hermione and Hagrid. The entire Weasley family occupied one corner, spending most of their energies trying to comfort a sobbing Mrs. Weasley. Luke, Leia, Han, and Sirius watched the door for someone, anyone, to give some sort of news on the two men's condition. Fett stood beside Dumbledore's chair, as still as a sentinal, giving no sign of emotion. Dudley Dursley looked extremely uncomfortable in his corner of the room, but he tried not to show it. If anything, he looked as concerned as anyone else.

Dumbledore sighed gustily. He should have known it would end something like this. Voldemort had been evil and powerful enough alone; to give him an ally just as strong and ruthless and calculating as he had been… even he couldn't have predicted the outcome of that. Harry and Vader had been lucky to come out of that fight alive. Whether they would ever recover fully from the wounds of that battle was another question, one he didn't even try to answer.

"When's Mum and Dad gonna get here?" Dudley asked at last.

"Mon Mothma has sent a shuttle to Corusant to pick them up," Dumbledore told him. "They'll be here soon."

As if on cue the door burst open, and Vernon Dursley shouldered his way toward Dudley, bellowing fit to wake the dead.

"Dudley, what are you doing here!" he demanded. "They didn't try any of their fool magic on you, did they? What's going on?"

"Oh, Duddykins, are you okay?" sobbed Petunia, throwing her arms around Dudley.

"Mu-um," he groaned. "I'm fine."

Dumbledore stood. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I'm afraid you have been mislead by the agents of the Galactic Empire."

"Don't go playing your mind games on me, you old crackpot," snarled Vernon. "I know all about your plot to overthrow the British Empire…"

"If there was any such plot, it was all the scheme of Emperor Palpatine and Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore replied softly. "I'm sorry to say that the Empire manipulated your family in order to gain your son as a soldier in its army."

Vernon's eyes bulged. "Lord Voldy… whoever… he was involved in this? That… that wizard who's been trying to snuff Harry?"

Petunia gave a little shriek.

"The Empire arranged a takeover of the magical world," Dumbledore told them. "They used their position there to wage war on Hogwarts, in an effort to pave the way for Voldemort's absolute reign over our world and to establish his own School of Dark Arts. It was only thanks to Harry's efforts and Lord Vader's change in allegiances that we were able to defeat their plot."

The Dursleys wore identical expressions of shock.

"I told you…" Petunia said at last, her voice trembling. "Something didn't seem right about this at the very beginning…"

Dudley sniffed loudly. "Harry killed Voldemort, Mum. But… he got carved up real bad…"

Petunia turned to stare at Dudley. "Harry's not…"

"We haven't been updated on his condition yet," Hermione said quietly, her eyes red.

Vernon sank into a chair, stunned. Dumbledore wondered if it had finally hit home that his charge wasn't just a liability, but flesh and blood, his nephew and family. He knew that Petunia had finally taken that fully into account this summer after his little… forceful reminder, and Dudley seemed to realize that back in Gryffindor Tower. And now, Vernon had finally realized that it was not Harry Potter, the weird wizard boy, that lay injured and fighting for his life in the next room, but Harry Potter, his nephew.

Or so Dumbledore hoped. Vernon was just as stubborn as Harry…

A green-robed Healer stepped into the room.

"Harry's all right, isn't he?" asked Hermione and Ron at the same time.

"Did you fix his arm?" demanded Dudley.

"What about Father?" Luke cut in.

"When're ye gonna tell us how 'arry's doin' 'steada leavin' us in th' dark?" Hagrid demanded.

This Healer, a wiry white-haired man with silvery-green eyes and a mouth that seemed perpetually fixed in a half-smile, had spent many years dealing with half-hysterical relatives of patients, and he waited patiently for the loud inquiries to die away before he spoke.

"That's much better," he said once things had quieted down. "I can here myself think clearly for a change now. I'm here to tell you that I believe young Potter will recover completely from his burns. We've just developed a new potion meant exclusively for energy burns, such as those caused by blasters and lightsabers, and he's been responding to it quite well. I doubt he'll even have a scar once we've discharged him."

Much of the tension in the room evaporated instantly.

"What about my father?" asked Luke.

"You're father? Oh, Professor Vader, of course." His smile took on a sad sort of crook. "He's… fighting… is all I can say. Fighting with all the strength he has, which I find quite admirable. But he was hurt very badly – not just in this fight of course, but before. He's an absolute mess, all mixed-up machinery and scars." He gazed at Luke and Leia sympathetically, then turned to Dumbledore. "I don't know if we can save him. I don't even know if we SHOULD save him… he's so broken apart… maybe it would just be kinder to let him go… ease along the inevitable…"

"No, sir," Dumbledore said firmly. "You will do all you can for him. I have Mon Mothma's assurances that a few well-programmed medical droids are on their way from Chandrila, and they'll know exactly how to repair Vader's mechanical components. You concentrate on healing his wounds and keeping his vital functions operating smoothly until they arrive."

"Yes sir." The Healer nodded and left the room.

Luke held his head in his hands. "Thank you, Dumbledore, for helping my father."

"Don't get your hopes too high," Dumbledore replied in all honesty. "Vader's still in a great deal of danger. I can't guarantee that even the medical droids will be able to repair him fully. But if he's fought this long, perhaps he'll fight his way back to health."

The door opened again, and Fudge entered the room. To everyone's disbelief, he wore an enormous smile, as if it had been entirely his efforts that had saved the day.

"Jolly good show, Dumbledore!" he exclaimed. "We won! We saved our world from the Imperial scourge once and for all!"

"Whaddaya mean 'we?'" demanded Hagrid. "What'd you do, Minister? B'sides bungle everythin' up, I mean."

"Oh come now, no hard feelings," Fudge said hastily, holding up his hands as if to placate the half-giant. "I'm on your side now, you know."

"Ah," Dumbledore said in an enlightened tone. "Fascinating, Minister, on how your loyalties can shift with the popular vote."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Fudge retorted.

"Was it not you who declared, not six months ago, that the Empire was an open-armed and generous ally?" Dumbledore inquired. "Was it not you who led a campaign to discredit Hogwarts with just as much determination as the Empire showed in their battle to destroy the school? Was it not you who placed us directly in this situation?"

"How was I supposed to know the Emperor had this up his sleeve all this time!" squealed Fudge.

"You could have simply asked Professor Vader," Dumbledore replied. "Or Boba Fett. Or any of our Muggle students. Or even the Muggle families." He gestured toward the Dursleys.

"Don't tell me that this man – your Minister – FELL for that folderol!" Vernon exclaimed.

"May I remind you, Mr. Dursley, that you fell for it as well," Sirius retorted.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said sternly.

Sirius fell silent, but not before Vernon shot him a fiery look.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fudge said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I don't speak with Muggles. I couldn't know what the Empire was like. I couldn't have predicted that You-Know-Who was in league with them…"

"Oh, give over," snarled Fett, speaking for the first time. "Admit you were wrong."

"You can't blame me for this!" Fudge declared loudly. "I didn't lead the attack on Hogwarts…"

"But you placed the wizard's world in a position that rendered them powerless to halt such an attack," Dumbledore replied evenly. "You refused to heed my warnings regarding the Empire and Lord Voldemort – and because of that, countless lives have been lost."

Fudge stared, open-mouthed, at the Headmaster.

"If you had but listened to me last year at the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Dumbledore went on, "or this year at Fett's capture, this battle would never have needed to be fought. Our government would not now be in tatters. The Death Eaters could have been captured and tried with minimal losses rather than the bloody battle we had to wage to take them into custody. And Harry Potter and my Dark Arts Professor would not now lay, injured and dying, in the next room." He gave Fudge a grim look. "They have already suffered far more at the hands of the Dark Lords than anyone else in the galaxy, Fudge. And thanks to your actions, they could very well pay for your foolishness with their lives."

Something inside Fudge seemed to collapse, and he sank into the last available chair. "Fine. Fine, I was wrong. I was a fool." He removed his bowler hat and crushed it in his hands. "I resign from the Ministry. No use keeping me there anyhow. I'd be lynched if I tried to keep my post after all this…"

The Healer opened the door again. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy has awakened," he reported. "Aside from a slight concussion, he should be fine. Would you like me to turn him over to the Ministry's custody?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Give him a sleeping potion for now. We have more pressing issues to deal with right now. We'll decide his fate later."

Fudge stood and followed the Healer out, looking as dejected as a man could possibly look. Dumbledore felt no satisfaction from Fudge's resignation – relief, yes, but no satisfaction. He didn't hate the man. He was still responsible for much of this mess, but he couldn't hate him. He had acted out of ignorance, not out of malice.

He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly old. If there ever was a time they needed magic or the Force to intercede on the Chosen Ones' behalf, it was now.

_Break…_

"Harry, wake up."

"Hmm?" Harry knew that voice from somewhere… he heard it almost every day, in fact. But something about it seemed off. It lacked the depth, the electronic-ness, the metallic resonance that normally infused it when he heard it…

He opened his eyes. It was Professor Vader's voice, albeit a drastically altered variant of it, that had bade him rise, but it was an unfamiliar face that was looking down at him – the face of a middle-aged daredevil who wasn't about to let his age get in the way of his spirit. His piercing blue eyes and unruly blond hair seemed familiar… if he didn't know any better, he'd say this was an older Luke Skywalker…

"Professor Vader!" he exclaimed, bolting to his feet. "You're not… you're not masked!"

He laughed. "Observant, Harry."

"But how did you… where's your armor… where are we?" For the place they were standing in, a lush garden alive with the splendor of the living Force, was nowhere he'd been before… except maybe in dreams…

"In a place somewhere between dreams and death," a man replied from just behind Vader, speaking with the voice Harry had heard during the duel. "In the realm of the Force."

"But why are we here?" A sickening stab of fear knifed through his guts. "Did the Emperor and Voldemort kill us?"

"No, Harry," Qui-gon Jinn replied. "You will both live. I suppose you can call this a gift from the Force, a reward for fulfilling your ends of the prophecies." He beckoned to Harry. "Anakin – Professor Vader, if you will – has some people he needs to meet here. Harry, follow me."

Harry obeyed. But as he and Qui-gon left the clearing, he craned his neck to look behind him. There were others stepping into the meadow to meet Vader – an older lady that must have been his mother, a beautiful woman with a generous smile and long brown hair, a bearded man in robes…

"His mother Shmi, his wife Padme, and his master Obi-wan Kenobi," Qui-gon explained. "They are all very happy to see he has rejoined the light."

_If I were them,_ Harry thought, _I'd be happy just to see him again after all this time._

"They're waiting here for you, Harry," Qui-gon told him, halting at the entrance to another meadow.

He was about to ask who "they" were… until he saw "them."

Lily and James Potter waited in the clearing, beaming proudly, tears running down their faces.

"Mum," he breathed. "Dad…"

His mother ran forward and threw her arms around him. "Harry," she sobbed. "Harry, I've missed you so much…"

It was too much. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried as he'd never cried before, clinging to her and never wanting to let go.

"It's okay, Harry," his dad said in a voice rough with emotion, clasping his shoulder. "We're here. We love you. We're so glad to have you back."

"I don't want you to go," he pleaded. "Please, can't I stay here with you?"

"Oh Harry," his mom said gently, pulling him away just enough to look into his eyes – green eyes that matched her own. "We're always with you."

He stared at her, not understanding.

"Remember what Vader taught you," his dad encouraged. "You can touch the Force anytime you want. You don't need a wand or a vision like this to do that. We probably can't talk to you like this again for a long time, but if you need to know where we are, we're only a heartbeat away."

His chest glowed with emotion until he was sure he would explode with it. "You promise?"

"Promise, Harry." His dad hugged him tightly.

Qui-gon placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's time to go."

"Already? But I just got here?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Qui-gon replied. "You'll see them again. Maybe not for a good many years, but certainly not never."

"Say hello to Moony and Padfoot for me," his dad said.

He laughed. "I will… Prongs."

_Break…_

Vader opened his eyes, grimacing. Curse it all. Not only did he have to leave his loved ones behind in that realm of the Force, but he had to return to a body that was still dependant on machinery to survive. He groaned and sat up, wincing as various pains made themselves known. At least he could move again.

The medical droids had been thorough and efficient, replacing his damaged and inoperable components with new, top-of-the-line parts. The Healer, likewise, had done an admirable job of mending his burns. He stood and reached for the cloak that hung from the bedside table. If he had to return to this body, at least it was in fine working order.

Harry groaned and shifted in the next bed. When Vader glanced over at the young man, he was startled to see that, not only were the wounds inflicted by the lightsaber gone, but his trademark lightning-bolt scar had vanished. Had the Healer managed to erase that mark? Or had the medical droids intervened and surgically repaired it?

He thought a little about that, then revised those thoughts. The scar had been planted by Voldemort… and had been Harry's link to the Dark Lord. Now that Voldemort was dead and the prophecies fulfilled, that link was no longer needed.

Harry opened his eyes. "That was weird."

"The Force can often be classified that way," Vader replied, fastening his cloak. "I would suggest you take a look in the mirror, Harry."

"What, do I have bed head?" He put on his glasses and had a look. An expression of disbelief crossed his face, and he raised a hand to touch his forehead. "It's gone…"

The door opened, and the Healer stepped in.

"Oh good, you're up and about," he said with a broad smile. "Come with me please. There are some people who would like to have a few words with you."

Harry flashed Vader a wide grin. "I know the Dark Lords are gone, but I kind of like us working as a team."

Vader chuckled a little. "I'm still very much your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Harry, but yes, we work well as a partnership." He extended a hand. "Perhaps, once you graduate from Hogwarts, you can work at the school as my assistant."

Harry shook his hand. "I was hoping to someday be an Auror, but I think I can help you out. After all, I've seen the Dark Arts in action plenty."

"You would make an excellent Auror, Harry. Once you're accepted by the Ministry, I greatly look forward to seeing you in action."

Together they left the room, more than ready to see their friends and family again, a great load removed from both their shoulders.


	21. End of Term

**Epilogue – End of Term**

If there was one downside to the magical world's victory over the Empire, it was that the Slytherins were back at Hogwarts – and terribly angry about the situation. There wasn't much they could do, of course, seeing as the Imperial School of the Dark Arts no longer existed and most of their parents were serving sentences in Azkaban, but that didn't prevent them from griping and becoming more withdrawn and clique-ish than ever.

Malfoy was by far the worst. Though he hadn't been under the Emperor's tutelage nearly long enough to learn much in the way of the Dark Arts, he still attempted to hassle other students and blast Force lightning at Harry and his friends at every opportunity. Only the constant presence of two Aurors, who had been indefinitely assigned as his escorts, kept him under control.

"He's resisted all efforts thus far to modify his memory," Vader told Harry after class two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. "Until we are able to penetrate his defenses and destroy his memories of the Emperor's teachings, he's still a danger."

"Then why doesn't he just keep him out of Hogwarts until they find a Memory Charm that's strong enough to work?" asked Harry.

"Dumbledore's orders," Vader replied. "Evidently he thinks there's something in Malfoy that's worth salvaging."

Harry didn't comment. He did notice, however, that Snape stopped treating Malfoy like the teacher's pet. Not that his attitude towards either Harry or Vader had improved at all.

The end-of-term feast, when it came, was something of a relief. This had been a monumental year at Hogwarts, one that had brought sweeping change and untold terror. Most of the students were eager to get back home and spend some time unwinding from the events of this school year.

Harry wasn't sure what to feel. For the first time he didn't dread going back to the Dursleys, but not knowing what to expect from his relatives this summer was almost as bad. After so many years of active dislike on their parts, he wasn't sure how he would be able to handle their acceptance, however grudgingly offered, this summer.

"At least you'll be able to visit your godfather," Dean Thomas said cheerily. Sirius had been granted a full pardon after Peter Pettigrew confessed to framing him, and he had sold the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and taken up residence in a village only a short distance from Little Whinging.

"And least Dudley won't be there," Hermione told him, trying to get Harry to lighten up.

"Why, where is Dudley?" asked Ginny.

"He's spending the summer in New Mexico with a friend of his," Harry replied, dishing himself a piece of treacle tart. "Some girl named Silvia Banderas."

Fred and George snickered. "Only a Yankee would end up falling for that fat git of a brother of yours," Fred chuckled.

"Aw, don't be too hard on him," George cut in. "He was almost worth having around during Harry's fight with You-Know-Who, remember?"

"What's with the costume?" Neville asked, giving them a puzzled look.

"Oh, a gift from Mr. Fett," Fred beamed, proudly standing and revolving slowly to flaunt the shiny suit of silver-and-red Mandalorian armor Boba Fett had bestowed upon him.

"He's our first celebrity endorsement, you know," George added, making a show of wiping imaginary crumbs from his breastplate.

"Weasley Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop and Weaponry Emporium," Fred bragged. "With premises on Diagon Alley and in the Silver Tower District on Corusant!"

"Providing pranksters and mercenaries alike with the necessary tools of the trades," George said with pride. "Sorry, totally wicked Mandalorian armor not included."

Hermione groaned. "I wish they'd never met Fett. The galaxy is in big trouble."

Ron was uncharacteristically silent as he blankly ate. Harry didn't blame him – he was going to have some adjusting to do over the holiday as well. Arthur Weasley, in an incredibly unprecedented move, had been elected as the new Minister of Magic less than a week ago, and the entire Weasley family had been thrown into a state of shock over their dad's new position. But Harry was sure that Mr. Weasley would make a great Minister of Magic.

At the head of the Great Hall were ranged the teachers of Hogwarts and the leaders of the Alliance… no, the New Republic. Apparently there was going to be some big announcement during Dumbledore's end-of-term speech. Harry scanned the staff table – for the first time at an end-of-term feast, there was no glaring gap where the Dark Arts Professor normally sat. Vader, it seemed, would outlast the curse and stay on for another year at the school.

_And I intend to stay for a good long while._

_I thought you weren't going to stay longer than a year, Vader,_ Harry remarked slyly.

_Watch it, Mr. Potter. I'm still your Dark Arts Professor, and I still have the authority to dock points._

_Oh, so they're reinstating the House Cup? I thought Dumbledore cancelled that to encourage unity between the Houses._

_During the war, yes. But the House Cup is a tradition not easily abolished, I'm told._

Dumbledore stood, and Harry and Vader ended their conversation and gave the Headmaster their attention.

"First of all, I want to thank everyone for an absolutely exhilarating term," Dumbledore began.

More than a few students snorted or rolled their eyes.

"We have seen much transpire this year," he went on. "I won't bore you all with a blow-by-blow overview of the year, but suffice it to say that all of us – not just teachers and students, but the school as a whole – has passed through the fire this year, and we have emerged stronger than ever. We have forged bonds with new friends and allies, we have faced deadly foes and come away victorious, and we have proven ourselves worthy to be called wizards.

"I'm sorry to say that we do not have a House Cup to award this year, but I do have an important and wonderful announcement to make – that the Jedi Order has returned to the galaxy, and that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker has declared Hogwarts an official Republic school of magic. And in addition, he has requested that every year he be allowed to select a few students who have proven themselves adept in the arts of magic to train as Jedi Knights."

A great cheer rose from the Muggle-born students.

"Have a safe summer holiday, my friends, and we will see you next year."

_Harry._

That wasn't Professor Vader's voice. Who's this?

_This is Luke Skywalker. I wanted a word with you._

_Does this have anything to do with your father?_

_Not really, though he did recommend you for this. He says you've shown a lot of potential in the Force. You can draw on it without a wand, something few wizards can do well. I thought that, with some training, you could be a Jedi Knight._

_So you want me to join the New Jedi Order?_

_Yes. You're the best I've seen so far. And Dumbledore's given his permission._

Harry looked up. Luke was giving him a hopeful expression. He hated to disappoint the young Jedi Master, and if Professor Vader had recommended him, he must have a lot of faith in him…

But then his gaze rested on Hermione, Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, his Quidditch teammates, all his friends at Hogwarts. Hagrid at the staff table, having an animated (if incoherent) conversation with the Wookie Chewbacca. Dumbledore, looking serenely at the crowd, a pleasant expression on his wise features. The school that had become his second home, his refuge, his lifeblood. He knew where he belonged, and though he was flattered to be considered Jedi material, he knew he couldn't accept the offer.

_Thanks, Luke. But no thanks. I'd rather stay at Hogwarts._

Luke looked a little crestfallen, but he didn't say so. _No problem. I understand. A mental laugh. Just keep my father in line for me._

_I heard that, son,_ came Vader's irritated growl.

_Oh, cheer up, Professor,_ Harry said with a grin. _I won't get on your nerves too much next year._

And so ended Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts.

**Credits**

I have been a Harry Potter fan for a couple of years now, and though I love the books, I have my issues with "Order of the Phoenix," not the least of which was the death of Sirius Black. Besides the loss of Harry's godfather, other factors that I disliked were the absolutely loathsome and sadistic character of Dolores Umbridge, Harry's belligerence and darkening of character (which all seemed rather OOC to me), and the revelation that Harry's father was as much a bully to Snape as Draco is to Harry.

Fellow Potter fans will probably flay me alive for the above statements, but they are my personal opinions only, so please forgive me.

This story was conceived during a conversation with a co-worker in which we were debating the merits of the fifth book. At some point I made the remark on how much I hated Umbridge, and closed my argument with "Face it, Darth Vader could've made a better Dark Arts teacher than Umbridge!" Only later would that last statement come back to haunt me… and from that argument, a plot bunny was born.

"The Stag and the Dragon" is, by far, the most challenging story I've ever written. The universes of Harry Potter and Star Wars were difficult to mesh well – people keep telling me in reviews that I fitted them well together, but I have no idea how I managed it. I began the story with no particular plot in mind, and thus I introduced plot points that I had difficulty resolving later on. Juggling the many characters of both universes and making sure they all had adequate "screen time" proved tricky as well. I managed to simplify that by eliminating original characters (with the exception of the female stormtrooper Silvia), but it was still a challenge.

I regret that I never addressed the issue of Star Wars technology working on Hogwarts grounds – "The Goblet of Fire" clearly states that Muggle machines don't operate in the school, yet droids, blasters, lightsabers, jet packs, cyborg components, and even starships work just fine in "The Stag and the Dragon." I apologize for this discrepancy.

I also regret that I wasn't able to give Sirius Black much screen time, even after I rescued him from his tragic death in "Order of the Phoenix." At least I got him out of the House of Black, I guess.

The characters in my stories often develop minds of their own, and they take the stories in directions I couldn't even fathom. I never predicted the unlikely relationship between Fred, George, and Fett, for example, or the merry mayhem the students would inflict on the stormtroopers. Nor could I have predicted that Hermione's father would be a Star Wars fanatic or Dudley a stormtrooper. The fun part about starting a story with no plot in mind is that, in the end, the story surprises its writer as much as it surprises its readers.

I apologize if my characterizations were inaccurate. I tried to keep the Harry Potter characters true to their book personalities. I confess to "tweaking" Fett and Vader's personalities in order to accommodate them as "good guys," and I hope this didn't detract from the story.

To sum it up, I immensely enjoyed crafting this story, but I don't think there will be a sequel. One foray into the Harry Potter world is enough for this Stargeek.


End file.
